The other Horcrux
by 25Stella27
Summary: Sherlock and John are turned into their younger selves to visit Hogwarts. Besides the Trio they also meet Artemis Fowl there, the boy who has managed to kidnap a fairy. While they try to adapt to the everyday life of the school, there is a mystery that remains to be solved. Why were they send there?
1. At King's Cross

**This is a crossover of Sherlock BBC, Harry Potter and Artemis Fowl. As far as I am concerned you don't have to have read Artemis Fowl to understand the storyline, but if you have any questions about references feel free to ask.  
**

**Setting:**  
**Harry Potter (3rd Year)**  
**Sherlock BBC(Prereichenbach)**  
**Artemis Fowl (after The Arctic Incident)**

* * *

John wasn't as much the sitting down type as Mrs. Hudson had once claimed, but he started to wonder if staying home in the flat and out of Sherlock's cases would have been better.

If he had, he certainly wouldn't be standing here at King's Cross, looking for a mysterious platform 9 3/4. And he certainly wouldn't be stuck in the body of a 14-year-old.

He glanced at Sherlock who also looked insanely younger than he really was. The Consulting Detective was studying the wall between platforms 9 and 10.

"As long as those wizards don't use another number system we can assume that this mysterious gate has to be right between platform 9 and 10" the 14-year-old Sherlock stated.

He paused and a certain joy appeared on his face.

"Look at those!"

John's eyes searched the platform for something unusual. He found a big family carrying wagons loaded with enormous trunks. They stopped just opposite the wall between 9 and 10. One of the boys started running towards it, and then he disappeared.

If John hadn't been abducted by fairies just the day before, he probably would've been stunned, but now he felt like nothing could really surprise him anymore. One by one, the family members disappeared into the wall. When they were all away, Sherlock turned to John smiling.

"I think now we can be sure where we can find the platform of 9 3/4."

The Consulting Detective straightened and walked toward the point where the wizard family had stood.

"You're sure we have to run?" John asked when he figured out Sherlock's plan. "Can't we just go there and lean to the wall, or something like that?"

Sherlock snorted. "Of course we can't! Imagine any person could do that and suddenly find themselves on the other side! No, there has to be more protection!"

Not waiting if John had any further complaints, Sherlock started running toward the wall and disappeared. John sighed; it seemed like he had to do the same, and he would have to bring their luggage with him.

Platform 9 3/4 was noisy and crowded. There were hundreds of parents saying goodbye to their children and several owls were screaming. For a moment John just stood there and consumed the scenery, then Sherlock interrupted his thoughts.

"Come on we have to find us good seats!"

Sherlock disappeared in the crowd without looking back to see if John was following him. He never did, he always assumed the ex-soldier could keep track of him without effort. Even under normal circumstances (like a crowded Trafalgar Square) John found this habit annoying, but now, carrying two rather big suitcases, it seemed quite impossible.

He followed Sherlock as fast as he could, mumbling excuses each time he bumped into people, or wagons, or cages with owls in them. He'd already lost sight of Sherlock.

Not knowing any better, he decided just to keep walking vaguely in the direction Sherlock had headed, hoping he would find him in the train at last. Stretching to get a better view (having the height of a 14 year old still irritated him), he didn't watch his step and he tripped over a trunk, making a hard impact on the ground. He felt the sudden pain as his hand got skinned. It made him cry out.

"Oh, sorry! You're okay?" asked the high voice of a girl.

"Yes", he muttered sitting up still feeling a bit shocked from the fall. The girl leaned down to him, shooting a critical look at his bleeding hands. She had bushy brown hair and seemed around 14: his age, as he forced himself to remember.

"Your hands are bleeding," she stated.

"It's nothing" he claimed and he automatically hid them.

"Let me fix it" she insisted matter-of-factly. She pulled out a piece of wood, which John identified as a wand.

He felt his heart rate increasing and couldn't help feeling terrified; the girl was about to do magic. Real magic.

Though Sherlock had said that the fairies also had magic, all he had seen of them yesterday was very much high-tech. {Perhaps add more description of the difference between the fairies and the wizards, it would be useful if someone reading this hadn't read Artemis Fowl}

Still not really feeling comfortable, John extended his hands towards the girl. A concentrated expression appeared on the girl's face and she made some complicated gestures with her wand before she softly tapped his hand with its wooden tip.

Instantly John felt a prickling sensation on his skin. He looked down saw that the wounds (which really hadn't been too bad) disappeared. Amazement rushed through him, but he tried his best to hide it from his face. He told himself that what had just happened was probably totally normal to a wizard.

"Thank you," he said instead as the girl finished, making it sound it was no big deal.

"You're welcome." A smile crossed her face, then she turned to him, frowning.

"Who are you, by the way? You look too old to be a first year, but I've never seen you at Hogwarts before."

John felt his stomach drop. This was the moment he had feared the most: the moment someone asked him where he had come from.

"I was homeschooled", he answered banning the uncertainty from his voice. "I know it's pretty unusual, but we lived in Alaska because of some studies my father was involved with."

To his relief, the girl didn't cry "liar" at him. Her face lit with interest.

"Homeschooled? I've read of that before. Did you have to-"

"Hermione!", someone shouted suddenly. The girl turned around as a tall boy with red hair ran toward her, followed by another with wild black hair and glasses.

"Harry! Ron!" the girl cried. John could see smiles lighting up all of their faces.

"How have your holidays been?" the black-haired one asked, after they'd all hugged.

"Great!" she answered, "I went to France and you can't imagine how much I learned about their history. During the seventh century they were the leading country of the international..."

Her voice trailed of as she saw one of the boys rolling his eyes.

"Oh, Ron, you should really show more interest in our history!" she complained.

She took a deep breath, probably to go on with her lecture about the importance of history, but the boy with the messy hair seized the opportunity to changed the topic.

"And who is this?" he asked pointing at John.

The girl -Hermione- turned around again. "Oh this is-", she stopped as she realized she had asked for his story but not for his name.

"John Watson" John jumped in, automatically offering his hand but stopping half way as he wasn't sure if this was an appropriate greeting among teenagers.

"Oh, yes" The girl continued, "He was homeschooled in Alaska. John, this is Harry", she pointed at the black-haired boy, "and Ron", she pointed at the other.

"Hi", said both of them.

John added a far too formal "Pleasure to meet you".

The tall boy -Ron- shot the train a short glance. John became aware of the fact that the platform was less crowded as it had been when he arrived. Most of the students had already entered the train.

"We had better go now." Harry pointed out, "Ron and I have already found us a nice compartment."

He turned to Hermione. "Which trunk yours? These two?"

He gestured at hers and Sherlock's.

"Two?!" Ron interrupted before she could answer. "Do you have so many books this year they didn't fit in a single one?"

"No, this is a friend of mine's." John explained. "He's already wandered off onto the train, leaving me with his luggage."

He heard Ron muttering something that sounded like "great friend", but the other boy stepped on Ron's foot, then asked if John wanted to come with them instead.

John knew there wasn't much point in looking for Sherlock, and he gladly agreed.

* * *

**Reviews are highly appreciated!** **Tell me what you liked (if you liked anything) and what could be improved! **


	2. Meeting Artemis

John kept glancing around hoping to find Sherlock, but had no such luck. It seemed like the Consulting Detective had disappeared. John decided not to worry about him: Sherlock probably knew more about the wizarding world than he did and should be smart enough to catch the train.

The three wizards he was now sharing a compartment with started to chat vividly about their holidays. John kept looking at the platform to watch all the little wonders of magic he had barely recognized until now. There was a man reading a newspaper with moving pictures printed in it, an owl rapidly changing its colour, so much that he could hardly decide what to look at next. It was like he had been pushed into the middle of a movie.

"John?" Hermione asked, interrupting his thoughts. "We were just wondering which year you are going to join?"

"The third", he answered remembering his story, "but I'm afraid that I might not be good enough to pass", he added feeling his stomach sink at the thought. "I'm not sure if can even cast a single spell."

"Oh, that's our year!" Ron exclaimed. "And we're all not that good either, except for Hermione, and she probably doesn't even need to go to Hogwarts at all…"

The girl blushed.

"Of course I have to go", she said but John heard the pride beyond her modesties.

"Hey, Ron, your mother wants something!", Harry interrupted and pointed through the window at a resolute woman who gestured wildly. John could see Ron rolling his eyes before he got up to open the window.

"What?", he shouted trying to be heard over the noise of the platform.

"I think I've accidently given Fred your pyjamas! Or was it George? And maybe you've got Ginny's hat. It's gone missing. Will you make sure you'll exchange things at school?"

-"Of course!" Ron shouted back, rolling his eyes again. "Thank you!"

Then he closed the window and silently added, "for talking about him pyjamas in front of everyone…" Hermione and Harry burst out laughing and John also chuckled.

"I think you better go to get your pyjamas now", Harry remarked when he'd caught his breath again. "Before of twins have the chance to play any jokes on you."

"They wouldn't dare!" Ron said, but he did look a bit worried.

As the train finally left, the three teenagers got up and waved their families goodbye. John remained in his seat feeling uncomfortable, as the station disappeared. It was as if his world was suddenly gone, just to be replaced by another completely different one that he didn't knew anything about.

"Didn't you want to say goodbye to your parents?", Hermione asked as she sat down again.

"They died last summer" John said, torn between sounding brave and sad. He didn't know which was more believable. In reality his parents were long gone, and thinking of them hardly evoked any strong emotions.

"A demonic fire destroyed most our village, but a friend and I got away. Now since there isn't anything left we're now going to Hogwarts."

Silence followed his statement, before Hermione cleared her throat.

"I'm sorry. You probably don't want to talk about it…"

He just nodded, trying to hide his relief from his face. They had indeed bought the story!

"Is it the same friend that you carried the trunk for?" Harry finally asked, maybe out of curiosity, maybe just to change the topic.

"Yeah", John said, "We've lost each other on the platform but he'll probably find me sooner or later. I think it's best that I wait here, else we might just miss each other."

Ron and Harry exchanged sceptical glances but didn't say anything. Apparently they didn't think John and Sherlock could possibly be close when they showed no intention to stay together in such a new situation. John decided not to worry about it though, judging that it wouldn't blow their cover.

The conversation carried on to other topics like what some of the three's classmates had done over the summer. John listened, laughing at some points, and felt himself relaxing. It wasn't as hard to hide his identity as he had feared. The three weren't as childish as he'd expected thirteen-year-olds to be. Actually they seemed more mature than some of the adults he knew.

Ron was in the middle of telling a really funny story about a joke his twins had played on another of his brothers (Ron seemed to have many), when Sherlock decided to show up.

Of course, the Consulting Detective just had to demonstrate his lack of social skills. John shouldn't have dared to hope that Sherlock would bother knocking, but he had really, for a split of second, hoped Sherlock would be polite enough to introduce himself. Of course, that turned out to be too high an expectation.

"There you are!" Sherlock said, ignoring the others completely. "I need you to come with me."

He looked at John expectantly, starting to drum with his fingers on the doorframe impatiently when John didn't get up instantly.

"That's Sherlock", John explained ignoring the detective's snort. "These are-"

"Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger" Sherlock interrupted. "Don't bore me with facts so easy to see!"

John sighed giving the others an apologizing look but decided he would deal with fixing whatever damage Sherlock's rudeness had done later.

Mouthing the words "He's not always like that" (which was a lie), John followed the detective out of the compartment.

"That was unnecessary." He pointed out as soon as they'd gotten out of earshot, but Sherlock just rolled his eyes.

"I found someone far more interesting." With these words Sherlock stopped in front of another compartment. He, unbelievably, knocked.

"Mr Holmes." The voice of a teenage boy called from inside. As they walked in, John was quite surprised to see a thirteen year old wearing a suit. Despite the youth of the boy, the suit fitted perfectly. The boy's outfit contrasted with the other not-matching clothes that John had seen the wizards wear earlier.

"Mr Fowl." Sherlock said, extending his hand to shake the boy's.

"Exactly. The suitcase?"

"Actually, it was the suit which made me realize who you are, but indeed the name is taken from your suitcase."

The boy, Fowl, nodded approvingly and then turned to John.

"And John Watson, of course. I like your blog, though I agree with Sherlock: you should try a little harder to make it sound like it wasn't written by a ten-year-old."

John nodded politely, wondering if the boy also had been forced into a younger body as they had. He seemed way too sophisticated for his age.

"Take a seat" the boy ordered, not rudely, but in a tone that showed he was used to commanding other.

"I believe the fairies didn't give you all too much information last night, and I'm afraid I won't be able to offer you much more." He paused. "Before I forget my manners; Do you wish any further introduction? I think you could tell much more than just my name from one look around."

-"A whole lot more" Sherlock agreed, "But I think it always useful to gain knowledge."

The smile on Fowl's face, that which reminded John of a vampire's, widened.

"We agree completely on that matter, Mr Holmes. I am Artemis Fowl the second. My family has been quite influential in Ireland ever since the fifteenth century, but in the last few decades, we've preferred to stay out of the spotlight, as my father's business has been, well, let's say at the edges of legality"

"-and beyond", Sherlock reckoned with a smirk.

"Deduce whatever you like, for our mission it is probably only important to know that I was involved with the fairy people last year, and that it was decided that I would join you at your mission at Hogwarts."

Sherlock nodded, but John wasn't getting anything.

"How did you get involved with the fairy people?", he asked.

Artemis turned to him and answered dryly. "I kidnapped a police officer and extorted a considerable amount of gold from them."

"Ah… And now they ask you for a favor?"

Artemis scoffed.  
"I also helped them stop a goblin uprising, so they owe me something. Let's just say that my involvement in this matter holds advantages for both sides."

Artemis turned back to Sherlock. "You're aware of the existence of the Fairy People?"

"I suspected such thing, yet I couldn't get hold of any solid proof. And I wouldn't have expected them to be so superior in technical matters."

Artemis nodded. "The very same thing surprised me. To my shame, I have to admit that my knowledge about the wizarding world is far less detailed. In fact, I always thought that the passages in the Book in which the wizards are mentioned were no more than fairytales."

"Being human, it was far easier for them to hide over the years. Do you know if there is any connection between the wizards and fairies?" asked Sherlock

"Indeed there is." Artemis confirmed. "Yet, the majority of the fairy people aren't aware of the existence of the wizards anymore. The Fairy Counsel and the Ministry of Magic don't keep in touch. There is a magical treaty keeping either party from messing in the other's affairs."

"But now," said Sherlock, "with humans working for them, they can explore far more of wizarding world than they ever thought possible."

"Indeed." Said Artemis. "Yet this can't be the only cause for human involvement in this mission. It doesn't explain the involvement of the two of you."

"So you're not aware of these reasons either?" Sherlock's voice sounded slightly surprised.

"I'm afraid I only know as much as you do." Artemis shot them a questioning look. "Any more questions? We have to deal with a few technical matters since we won't be able to use any electric devices as soon as we reach the school."

"Just one question", Sherlock said, while John thought 'a million'. "Where is your bodyguard?"

For a split second Artemis seemed surprised, then the smirk on his face reappeared. "Not bad, Mr Holmes, not bad. You want me to ask how you know, I assume?"

"Actually this one is a little too easy to impress you, yet I think I will seize the opportunity:

"You wear a suit perfectly fitting. There are no suits in this measure in stock in any shop, so it must be customized. Customizing needs a considerable amount of time, at least three days, thus you must have had the suit before the fairies came to you with their offer. Of course, money could've sped up the process, but why bother to get a suit if you're going to wear robes most of the time anyway? Having the suit before the fairies came means they didn't change your body, rather that you are actually a teenager. And yet, you have a certain confidence in your voice, especially when giving orders, which make me think you're used to speaking with adults as an equal or a superior. But who would allow to be spoken to in such a way by a teenager? Either family or staff. You might have great ancestors, but you cannot be very close to your family, as parents hardly allow their children to kidnap fairies, no matter how smart the child may be, so it has to staff. No t someone doing trivial things like cleaning or cooking, but someone who isn't boring to speak to, someone you respect. In addition: the fact that your family is quite important means that it has to be a bodyguard."

Artemis nodded approvingly. "Quite good, Mr Holmes. I'm really looking forward to working with someone who can use his brain properly. Now we will prepare ourselves for the challenges that the wizarding world holds for us."

With that, Artemis reached for his suitcase and produced three strange electric devices, which appeared at first glance to consist of nothing but wires. However, as Artemis undid them it became clear that there were actually earplugs, glasses and gloves all connected to a small box.

"Before you use these," Artemis explained, handing them each a device, "you'll each have to take one of these pills." The boy gave them two little white capsules, one to Sherlock and one to John.

"What will they do?" John asked, sceptically regarding his pill.

"You will be given information about the wizarding world and the subject matters that the other students in our classes would have been taught during their first two years at school. To speed up the process, the glasses, earplugs and gloves will be used giving optical, acoustic and physical stimulus. The pills are simply to produce a kind of trance that allows your brain to store all this new information."

"Doesn't sound like something Sherlock would need." John muttered under his breath.

Artemis produced something else from his suitcase. Three wooden sticks.

"Oh, the wands", Sherlock said. John could make out amazement in his voice.

"Yes. The fairies weren't absolutely sure if these wands would be the right ones for you. The wand does allegedly choose the wizard, but I think we should be able to get replacements if they don't work for you."

They each took the wands Artemis offered them. John felt his fingers warming as he touched the wood of his. Sherlock's even produced a few sparkles. Artemis nodded approvingly, then put on his gloves, earplugs, and glasses.

"You only have to press the play button." He said before taking his pill and sinking back into his seat. Sherlock and John starred at each other for a moment.

"You're sure it isn't dangerous?" John asked, shooting the pill a rather sceptical look.

"Not at all sure." A smile lit Sherlock's face. "But that's the thrill of it, isn't it?"


	3. The Sorting

The Sorting

Waiting for the Sorting John wondered if he'd ever been this nervous before.

Apparently he wasn't the only one though; all the first years were pale, either staring down at the floor or whispering hastily to their neighbours, reassuring each other that whatever the Sorting was, it couldn't be too hard.

A small girl asked if they would have to perform magic, making everyone even more nervous since no one had done anymore than a bit of skipping through their books.

John felt his stomach drop at this, knowing that he was supposed to have studied magic for three years already.

The fairies' tutorial might have given him a general idea what to do, but he didn't entirely trust the technology. He felt like he had already forgotten everything.

He glanced over at Sherlock and Artemis who seemed more relaxed than should be allowed. Apparently the Sorting didn't matter to them at all.

"You know what we have to do?" John whispered stepping closer to Sherlock.

The Consulting Detective shook his head.

"They keep it secret to scare the first years. I don't think it can require any use of magic though, as it would favour the ones coming from wizard families."

The last words calmed John a bit, but he couldn't help worrying about the result of the Sorting.

He didn't know much more than that there were four so-called 'houses' at Hogwarts, each requiring certain characteristics of their students. He hadn't figured out what they were yet but if the Sorting was indeed based on character, he highly doubted to end up in the same house as Sherlock.

The Great Hall fascinated John from the moment he stepped in. It was the largest room he'd ever seen (except for some storage depots) yet it appeared to be quite cosy.

That definitely wasn't the most exceptional note about the Hall: it seemed to have no ceiling. Only the fact that the rain stopped several feet above the students' heads convinced him that it didn't open up to the sky.

"Quite fascinating" he heard Sherlock murmuring next to him, while the others "oh"ed and "ah"ed. Except for the Fowl boy of course, who didn't display any more than the basic interest than Sherlock was showing. Finally they reached the top of the Hall and the teacher who'd lead them in, Professor McGonagall, told them to stop.

"Your Sorting is now going to begin." She said in a loud voice effortlessly able to make herself heard through the muttering in the Hall.

"Each of you must put on this hat", she gestured towards an ancient looking hat lying of a chair nearby which John hadn't noticed yet "when I read out your name. After some time of consideration the hat will tell you which house you fit in best."

Some of the first years nodded to show they understood, others just nervously glanced around, too stressed to show any kind of reaction. Most just seemed to be relieved that no harder task than putting on a hat lay in front of them.

John expected McGonagall to start reading out names now. Instead she looked at the hat which suddenly opened up just above the brim and started to sing.

"All this ceremonial stuff is completely unnecessary." Sherlock complained next to him.

"All they want is a big show." John hmed in agreance, but tried to follow the hat's song. It was now describing which students would go to which house.

"I don't know why they need this hat at all." Sherlock continued. "I can tell from a single look who is going to be placed in which house!"

"Sherlock!" John hissed. "I'm trying to actually listen!"

Though he couldn't see Sherlock's face as he kept looking at the hat, John was positively sure the Consulting Detective rolled his eyes.

"It's quite easy: Gryffindor-courage; Ravenclaw-cleverness; Slytherin-pure blood; Hufflepuff-rest, though they put it a bit nicer…"

"Aston, Derek", McGonagall's voice interrupted their conversation.

The hat had stopped singing and the real sorting began. John saw a little boy stepping forward shaking all over. He was shivering so hard, he had some trouble to put the hat on. It instantly slipped over his eyes as he finally managed.

"Gryffindor" Sherlock muttered and John considered it to be a joke until the hat loudly repeated Sherlock's word.

"How'd you know?" John asked but all he got in response was a mysterious smile and the information that the next one was going to become a Slytherin.

Of course, Sherlock was right again.

"And what am I going to become?" John whispered between two students who both –as Sherlock had guessed rightly- joined Ravenclaw.

Sherlock gave him a smirk. "Let's keep the tension up a bit."

Before John could object to this McGonagall called "Fowl, Artemis" and both of them turned to watch the boy's Sorting. Surprisingly, it didn't take the hat a second to determine the house of the boy.

"SLYTHERIN!" it exclaimed as soon as he'd touched the boy's hair and Fowl walked over to the cheering table to their left, his face displaying a satisfied smile.

"Didn't you say Slytherin was for pure bloods?" John wondered but before Sherlock could answer Professor McGonagall had already demanded "Holmes, Sherlock."

Similar to Artemis, Sherlock walked off confidently, showing no sign of nervousness. The Sorting hat obviously had a hard job figuring out Sherlock's house.

The Consulting Detective sat on the stool for almost a minute. John worried that their cover had been blown, before the hat finally made him a "RAVENCLAW!"

Despite clapping along with the others, John felt his stomach sink. Ravenclaw was labelled for cleverness, a feature definitely fitting for Sherlock but not exactly his own quality. Until now he had hoped they might both end up in Gryffindor, as courage was a feature they shared in some way, but this hope had now been shattered.

Of course they would meet occasionally on the floor, but as far John knew they were definitely going to be separated during night and for classes, maybe even at the dinners, as there was a table for each house.

The Sorting continued, making the houses cheer every time a student was assigned to them (John noticed neither Sherlock nor Artemis clapped their hands a single time) and John couldn't help getting bored by the time they finally reached the 'S's.

All he wanted now was to get this ceremony over with. He noticed a feeling of hunger that he had been too busy to realize until now.

Skipping back through the day he noticed he hadn't eaten since this morning.

He wondered how the Hogwarts students had managed until now. There had probably been an opportunity to get something to eat at the train, but having Sherlock around didn't really help noticing such occasions.

The line of first years had gotten much shorter by now and as McGonagall called "Thomason, Richard." There were only two other students standing with John.

Richard became a Hufflepuff, welcomed with cheers by his table, though John noticed some eyes longingly watching the empty plates Finally, the witch asked for "Watson, John".

He stepped forward barely aware of all the eyes lying upon him, just happy that this torture was finally coming to an end. The hat covered his eyes instantly when he put it on.

Its inside was all black which was quite a difference to the bright, candle-lit hall.

"Oh another one going into third year." A voice whispered.

It took John some seconds to realize that the hat was actually talking.

"Yes, your friend was right… very brave... Still, I think you would be fit better in Hufflepuff, very loyal and fair… She really would've liked you… A shame they're not going to get such a good student this year. You're going to GRYFFINDOR!"

The last word the hat exclaimed loudly and John heard the table to his right clapping furiously. Hastily he took the hat off, handing it to "Zachary, Tom" and hurried over to the Gryffindor table.

"Here!" someone called. He saw Hermione waving at him, pointing to a free seat next to her. Smiling thankfully, he went over to her, almost collapsing on the bench. He had been standing for almost an hour.

"Where are the others?" John asked. He couldn't spot Ron and Harry anywhere.

"Harry's gone to the hospital wing. He's lost consciousness when the Dementors searched our compartment. Nothing too bad, though", she added when she saw John's worried look.

"Look there he is!"

_What the hell are Dementors?_ John wondered, but didn't ask. He was afraid it would be an entirely stupid question.

Just as Harry and Ron took their seats across from John and Hermione, everyone suddenly went quiet. John realized that a tall white-haired man at the staff's table had gotten to his feet. "Welcome!" he said in calm yet strong voice.

"Welcome to another year at Hogwarts!

You know that I normally don't keep you from eating by giving information before the feast, but I think that I must iterate some important notes that are beyond delaying: As you've already noticed, the train was searched by Dementors."

* * *

**I don't like to press for reviews but some would really nice... Just tell me if you like it, if you want me to continue or if it woud be better to stop altogether because I can't get a single line right. **

** SkittleZ: I think you even owe me one ;) **


	4. Dumbledore's speech

"Even though I objected," Dumbledore continued, "the Ministry of Magic considered the Dementors watching the school's boarders to be necessary, as Sirius Black hasn't yet been found and there exists information suggesting he is heading towards this school.

"Though, as I have already told the Minister, I am entirely convinced that Hogwarts' protection can guarantee the safety of each of its students, so you are not to worry.

"In addition, from now on there will be Dementors guarding the school.

You can be assured that they will not be allowed to enter the grounds; nevertheless, we should be aware that the Dementors will notice anyone leaving Hogwarts -no matter if he or she considers themselves to be invisible. I wouldn't trust these creatures to tell a student from an enemy."

Dumbledore paused as though to emphasize his words, making eye contact with several students.

Then he continued more cheerfully: "And now as I'm talking anyway, I would also like to welcome our new first years and the three older students who are going to attend third year classes! To all of you a wonderful new year at Hogwarts, despite these ordeals! "

* * *

Artemis attentively listened to the Headmaster's speech. Dumbledore seemed to be liked and trusted by his students: they fell silent the instant he started to speak and seemed to relax when he assured them the school was safe.

Artemis, however, could hear the concern in the Headmaster's voice, even though it was directed to something other than the escaped prisoner.

Indeed Dumbledore wasn't concerned about Sirius Black entering Hogwarts' grounds (Old and powerful magic had projected the school for centuries and even if Black managed to enter, how much damage could a single man do?).

No, Dumbledore was concerned about the Ministry, who hadn't followed his advice.

Artemis hadn't had much time to study Wizard's politics, but he'd heard Fugde, the current Minister of Magic, used to ask Dumbledore for advice on anything.

When Dumbledore mentioned that the Dementors would notice anyone trying to pass them, Artemis saw the Headmaster's eyes resting on a boy with wild black hair, whom he instantly recognized as Harry Potter.

Next to him sat John Watson.

At this, Artemis couldn't help a little satisfied smile. Before he returned to watching Dumbledore his eyes locked with Sherlock's who had also been watching his companion and seemed just as content as Artemis; they had agreed earlier to persuade the Sorting Hat to put John into Gryffindor.

He could keep a close watch on Harry and his friends.

Of course, they didn't know if Harry Potter was important to their task, or what their task even was exactly, but the Boy Who Lived seemed a good point to start.

"Are you looking at the Potter boy?" a snarling voice next to Artemis asked.

It belonged to a blond boy approximately his age with a snotty expression.

"He is not as special as everyone thinks he is."

"Well, at least everyone knows his name, which I can't say about you, Mr…?"

"Malfoy. Draco Malfoy. My father works in the Ministry and is pretty close to Fudge."

Draco paused as if to emphasize his words, but Artemis found it rather pathetic to try to impress others with one's father's position.

"Anyway", Draco continued, "welcome to Slytherin. I think you'll soon learn to appreciate having been put in this house and not in one with Mud-bloods and blood traitors. Speaking of blood, your last name is Fowl, isn't it?"

"Yes, and as you are surely about to point out it's not very common in the Wizarding World. And you're right again; it is not very common because I'm a muggle-born or a Mud-blood as you like to call it."

Artemis enjoyed seeing the Malfoy's face drop and his cheeks turn red. Without a further word the boy turned back to his friends and Artemis could hear him whisper "Why the hell is he here then?".

During the rest of the feast many quick glances were shot at Artemis. Some students, who either hadn't heard his confession or didn't care as much about blood as Malfoy did, attempted to start conversation with him. Artemis blocked them off with his arrogant attitude and soon they decided to leave him alone. Artemis, in the meantime, listened attentively to their chatter, collecting information. He felt delighted at the idea of sharing with Sherlock as soon as possible.

* * *

When Artemis and Sherlock broke their first school rule, they hadn't been in the castle for more than six hours.

It wasn't a mayor crime, just ignoring curfew, but if they had arrived at Hogwarts in Harry Potter's first school year, they probably would've entered the forbidden corridor and, considering their combined intelligence, easily managed to get through to the Philosopher's stone.

Now, however, the stone was long gone and destroyed and though Artemis might loathe the loss of a device conveniently able to increase his family's wealth, Sherlock wouldn't have held much interest in the stone anyway for he'd neither cared neither about money nor about eternal life.

The two geniuses met shortly past midnight in the dungeons to explore them together.

Artemis usually left legwork to Butler, but since his bodyguard wasn't available, he had to scout the area himself. It turned out to be surprisingly pleasant.

By morning the two had found every hidden walkthrough in the Dungeons, of which five weren't shown on the Mauderer's Map and three hadn't been discovered by Tom Riddle who had prowled through the Dungeons for most of the seven years he'd spent at Hogwarts.

Artemis soon realized that he and Sherlock had a very different approach to finding the walkthroughs: while Artemis would soon discover the inner logic of the architecture, Sherlock relied on clues like a trace of mud in an unlikely place, or a wall being a little to thin in certain places.

"Have you figured out why we're here yet?" Sherlock asked as they were walking back to their respective dorms.

"Well, I guess the fairies have a general interest in finding out about the wizards doings."

"But that's not all…"

"It doesn't explain why you are here," Artemis agreed. "If this is just about information, I could have come here on my own…"

"What do you think about this escaped prisoner?"

"Sirius Black?" Artemis shrugged. "According to my research he was the first ever to escape from Azkaban what makes him either very smart or very powerful… Or probably both. But he's still alone and how much damage can one man do?"

"A lot" Sherlock said grimly.

"You are referring to James Moriarty, aren't you?"

Sherlock frowned. "I indeed am. How did you know?"

"I know about the little game you played. You shouldn't forget that I've paid some attention to your doings for the past few years, Mr Holmes. Nevertheless, James Moriarty is quite different; he has contacts, sources, people working for him. Black is all alone."

Sherlock nodded slowly. Artemis was right. Sirius Black couldn't be the sole reason of their presence in school.

However, Sherlock didn't really care why they were at Hogwarts; it was no more than a simple mystery he wanted to solve.

He was sure he eventually would solve it, especially with Artemis on his side. In the meantime, he noticed with delight, the school held lots of secrets yet to be discovered.

* * *

**Thanks for all the great reviews! I'll try to upload the next chapter more quickly ;) **


	5. The first lessons

The next day started "too early." At least according to Ron, whom John and Harry had to literally drag out of bed.

In John's opinion it was actually a very decent time to get up (he remembered worse wake-up calls back from his own days at school), but of course he didn't mention that.

Hurrying down to the Great Hall for breakfast John realized that very few of corridors seemed familiar to him, and he was sure some of the staircases had changed directions.

Harry, Ron and Hermione quickly chose some seats at the Griffendor table, but John hesitated, glancing over at Ravenclaw. He couldn't see Sherlock anywhere.

"What's up?" Ron asked, his mouth already filled with a bite of toast. Hermione glared at him and muttered something sounding like "disgusting".

"It's about Sherlock, that friend if mine", John explained, "I haven't seen him since the Sorting."

"Probably-" Harry mumbled but interrupted himself when he noticed Hermione's glare.

"Probably," he repeated after swallowing, "he's still asleep or took a wrong turn. I'm sure he'll turn up sooner or later."

John nodded more or less convinced and sank onto the seat next to Hermione. He was just finishing his Corn flakes when Professor McGonagall came to hand them their timetables.

Hermione –having a last name starting with G- got hers first. Glancing at it, John realized there had to be a mistake.

"How can you have three subjects at the same time?" asked Harry, also leaning over her timetable.

"I spoke with Professor McGonagall" Hermione answered like this a perfect explanation and turned to her toast again.

Before he could ask further questions, Harry was given his timetable. John noticed the boy sighed slightly as his eyes ran over the lines.

"What is it?" John asked curiously. "We're having Potions, Care of Magical Species and Defence against the Dark Arts with Slytherin."

He pointed to several subjects. "It's never been that much", Ron complained looking down on his own timetable.

"I suspect the only subject safe from them is Muggle Studies..."

"Mr Watson?" John couldn't help twitching as McGonagall called his name and he hastily turned towards her.

"Yes, Ma'am?"

"First of all I would like to welcome you at Gryffindor. I hope that you will work hard to score Points for our house."

John nodded trying not to imagine what she'd do if he didn't. What hell were 'Points' anyway?

"I've noticed you haven't picked your subjects yet and thus I have been unable to figure out your schedule. Will you do the picking now, please?"

She handed him a list of five subjects. 'Divination' he read 'Care of Magical Species, Old Ruins, Arithmancy and Muggle Studies'.

John stared at the list, well aware of McGonagall's piercing look resting on him.

He was pretty sure he could excel at Muggle Studies, but there was also a high risk to reveal his true didn't have much of clue what Arithmancy was so he finally made crosses at Divination and Care of Magical Species; he'd already spotted these two on Harry's and Ron's timetables.

When he handed the list back, it wasn't clear if McGonagall approved of his choices, but at least she didn't complain about it.

The timetable he got back was, to his relief, exactly the same as Ron's and Harry's, which ensured that he wouldn't have to look for rooms, so long as he stayed with them.

Their first class was Divination, and would take place in the Northern Tower.

"We had better go now", Hermione pointed out. "It will take us at least ten minutes to get up there. And we can't be late to our first class!"

"No of course we can't." Ron muttered, but Hermione had already gotten up and didn't hear him.

John followed her hesitantly, still trying to find Sherlock at the Ravenclaw table.

"Maybe he's been here before us and already left for class", Harry suggested."

"That's it, probably." John agreed, but he couldn't help feeling a bit worried. "

You'll see him at lunch" Hermione assured. As it turned out, it took them more than ten minutes to find their classroom.

Apparently even two years at Hogwarts weren't enough to know every corridor by heart.

When they finally arrived, about half of the other students were already there and most of the others turned up shortly after them.

As they had all settled in to their armchairs, their teacher arrived too. John couldn't help but think that Professor Trelawney seemed to be a bit mad.

Her talking about reading teacups or watching crystal balls didn't really change his impression. Some of the others -Hermione especially- also looked a bit sceptic.

The other lessons hopefully were less exotic. Even so, John was surprised when Neville indeed broke his teacup just as Trelawney had said.

On the other hand, all he'd heard about the boy until now indicated that it wasn't an unlikely thing to happen. Fortunately John managed to drink his tea without incident -even though the pot was very hot.

Then he handed his cup to Hermione who he'd teamed up with. In return he got hers.

Flipping it over, he felt a little lost. There wasn't anything he could see in the leaves. He turned the cup trying to find some kind of symbol but all he could see was a spot which looked somewhat like France.

He looked that up in 'Unfogging the future', but apparently "France" wasn't any kind of omen.

At least he wasn't the only one facing such problems: Hermione flipped furiously though the book apparently also missing the right entry, and Ron and Harry who had found their symbols came only up with prophecies that made little sense and made both of them burst out laughing.

Neville assured the boy sitting next to him, Seamus, that he was going to have a great future, since he got a robe emblem.

He was soon corrected by Professor Trelawney who pointed out that the "robe" was actually a "snake" which stood for accidents.

She also told Seamus that the cloud he had seen was a crown and two girls whose names John didn't know learnt that their Christmas tree was actually the head of an arrow.

Then Trelawney turned in John's and Hermione's direction and John hastily returned to his own work, or at least pretended to look at the pages of their textbook.

Fortunately Trelawney chose Harry and Ron instead of John and Hermione, probably because Ron was just telling Harry that he got a rabbit, so he would have many children, but that his leaves were also showing a bottle, which meant he would never find a girl.

A bit harsher than before, Trelawney reached for Harry's cup, turning it furiously.

Suddenly, she let out a high scream. Everyone turned to look.

"My dear", she said to Harry in a shocked voice. "My dear, I'm afraid that you... Your tea leaves show a Grim."

What the hell was a Grim? John cast a short look around to find that the others were just as confused as he was.

He wanted to check his textbook inconspicuously, when Pavarti asked: "Madam Trelawney, could you…um, please tell us what the Grim is?"

"You don't know?" Professor Trelawney asked incredulously. "None of you?"

In the corner of his eye, John noticed Hermione's hand shooting upwards.

"It's a death omen, Professor. It's said to be the worst one, but-"

"Exactly", Trelawney cut her off. "I'm afraid, Harry, that you are in great danger." After that the class went quiet.

John could see Harry was fairly shocked and felt a sudden jolt of sympathy for the boy. Suddenly they heard a knock on the trapdoor, and a black haired boy entered the class.

It was Sherlock.

Everyone stared at him, especially John.

"Sorry I'm late but I had some trouble finding the classroom..." Sherlock stated, ignoring the eyes resting upon him.

John highly doubted Sherlock had actually gotten lost. If he had, he never would've admitted it so freely.

"And who are you?" Trelawney finally asked, when she'd found her voice again.

"Isn't she supposed to already know his name?" Hermione asked in a voice to low for anyone but John to hear.

"Sherlock Holmes." The Consulting Detective answered.

His gaze wandered around looking for a chair. He raised an eyebrow when he saw the one next to John was already occupied by Hermione and instead choose a seat at an empty table behind John.

"And which house are you from?" Trelawney asked consulting her list of students.

"Ravenclaw", Sherlock answered matter-of-factly.

"I'm sorry to inform you that you still haven't found your classroom. This is the Gryffindor Divination class."

Sherlock flinched. He hated being told he was wrong, or even stupid. He blanketed his expression quickly.

"No, I'm here because my chosen subjects wouldn't fit with the Ravenclaw time-table, so I'm going to have a few classes together with the Gryffindors."

John couldn't help a smile flashing over his face. He should've known Sherlock would manage a way so that they wouldn't be apart all the time!

Professor Trelawney frowned at this, but didn't object. Instead she told the class that they were dismissed, not without telling Harry he should be very cautious.

John could clearly see the boy's face dropping a these words.

* * *

"Why were you late?" John asked, turning to Sherlock while trying to stuff Unfogging the future back into his bag.

"I thought I could use the "I-didn't-find-the-classroom-excuse as long as possible" he explained smirking. "I really hope this Wizard school isn't as boring as ours are."

"Sorry, we haven't been introduced properly yet, Hermione Granger" Hermione said, extending her hand to Sherlock.

All of them knew that this wasn't quite true, as John had already tried to introduce them on the train.

He managed to step on Sherlock's foot before he could point this out.

"Sherlock", he answered reluctantly taking her hand.

"He's pleased to meet you", John added quickly realising a bit too late how awkward the sentenced sounded.

"Ron Weasley," Ron also joined the conversation along with Harry, who still seemed a bit absentminded after what Trelawney had added "Harry Potter".

To John's surprise, Sherlock's eyes paused on Harry. "Nice too meet you, Mr Potter."

Ron and Hermione seemed a bit taken aback that Sherlock only seemed to show Harry any kind of respect, but they apparently chose to forgive Sherlock's bad behaviour.

"Are there any subjects other than Divination that you've got with us?", Hermione asked, trying to engage Sherlock in conversation.

"Yes."

"Which are?" Hermione wanted to know, seeing as Sherlock didn't explain any further.

"Transformation, Potions and Defence again the Dark Arts."

John saw Sherlock rolling his eyes, but hoped the others didn't notice.

"We're having the next class together", John said. "Better you come with us so you don't get lost again."

The glare John earned at his teasing was quite intense, but he was glad to have Sherlock's mean behaviour focussed on him, rather than they others.

Apparently Divination had ended early, since they arrived at Transfiguration perfectly on time.

John wasn't able to check for certain however, as the magic swirling through the air seemed to have confused the battery in his watch.

John had almost chosen the seat next to Harry, Ron and Hermione in the first row, but just as he was about to sit down, Sherlock called "John" and pointed to some chairs in the last row.

Seeing this, John got his bag and went to Sherlock, ignoring Hermione's frown and Ron and Harry's whispering.

Just as he had sunk down in his chair, Professor McGonagall came in. The class was quiet in no time.

"Welcome back." McGonagall said but unlike Dumbledore she didn't beam at these words (thought, she didn't seem too unhappy either, John noted with relief).

Then, she turned to Sherlock and John. "I've heard your time-table has been changed, Mr Holmes?"

Sherlock nodded firmly. She turned to John.

"Have you two known each other from the past?"

"Yes, ma'am", he said, "we were home schooled together."

McGonagall raised an eyebrow at this. It was clear she didn't approve of home schooling. "Only one teacher, I assume? No offences meant, but most wizards aren't masters in every field. Show me how much you've learnt..."

She handed each of them fire stick. "Turn it into a needle." John felt his heart-rate increase.

He was going to do magic? Just like that?

With shaking hands, he got out his wand trying to remember which charms were used to transfigure. Apparently the fairy's technology had worked at least a little, as suddenly a word and a movement popped up in his head.

Before he could try to cast the spell however, Sherlock had already said it. John heard the little plonk! of a steel needle hitting the desk.

McGonagall nodded approvingly. "Well, done, Mr Holmes. Mr Watson?"

John closed his eyes and did exactly what his instincts told him. Apparently, he got it right; he also changed the fire stick into a needle.

Quite a nice needle in fact.

When he looked at it more closely, he couldn't help feeling a little proud that the first charm he'd ever cast actually turned out well.

McGonagall went on testing their skills, and it turned out Sherlock (not much to John's, but obviously McGonagall's surprise) mastered every single task easily. Even John was doing a decent job, which surprised HIM immensely.

After they'd both turned teacups into turtles (John's didn't completely lose the structure of the china), McGonagall gave them five house-points each and began to teach the class (who had either watched or fallen into private conversations) about Animagi; wizards and witches who could turn into animals effortlessly.

At the end of class, she didn't miss assigning them a fair amount of homework. She said they should "get used to school as quick as possible again".

Sherlock sat with John at the Gryffindor table during lunch, not eating anything of course, John had gotten so used to it by now that he barely noticed. Ron noticed though:

"Aren't you hungry?" he asked Sherlock between to bites of beefsteak. "

Obviously not," Sherlock answered simply and gave Ron an icy look.

"Just curious" Ron muttered and turned back to Harry to talk about a wizard sport called "Quidditch".

John really would've liked to tell Sherlock to be nicer to others, but he couldn't do so in front of everyone.

On top of that, they had to hurry to Care of Magical Creatures right after lunch, so he wouldn't get a chance to talk to Sherlock then either.


	6. An incident

A gigantic man, whom John had already spotted once when they arrived at Hogwarts, taught care of Magical Creatures.

Despite his bigness, he seemed to be quite nice. He wore a bright smile when they arrived at the small hut where the class was held.

"Harry! Ron! Hermione!" he welcomed the three who smiled back. "I can't tell you how exited I am for my first lesson! And who are you?" he asked turning to John.

About five minutes later the rest of the class had arrived and Hagrid stopped chatting with them in order to begin with the lesson.

He led the students to a paddock where John saw some of the strangest creatures he'd ever seen: They were half eagles, half horses. The animals weren't as frightening as the horse-like creatures that'd carried the carriages, yet they seemed to be so wild and powerful that John felt himself wanting to stay as far away from them as possible.

Hagrid introduced the creatures as Hippogriffs. His warnings of their sharp claws and beaks didn't make John feel much more comfortable about them.

"So who wants to stroke one?" Hagrid asked, finally.

John felt the sudden urge to back away, but he stayed where he was. He figured that taking a step back would look stupid.

Too late, he realised that the rest of the class wasn't of the same opinion about childish behaviour.

"John, was it, right? You want first?"

"Err" said John. He could literally see Hagrid's face drop. "Um, I think... that would be... great."

John forced a smile on his face, hearing someone behind him snort. Shooting a look over his shoulder, he saw it was Artemis, who he hadn't even noticed until now.

"Hippogriffs want to be shown respect" Hagrid instructed and grabbed the leash of a big silver Hippogriff. "You have to look straight in his eyes."

John did as he was told, realising the beast's eyes were of the purest yellow. A shade he recognized as warning colour. "Don't blink too much, he wouldn't like that."

Of course, just then John felt the sudden urge to blink rapidly. He managed to keep his eyes open.

"And now bow."

He felt his heart hammering in his chest. Exposing his neck to this creature didn't seem like a great idea.

"Come on", Hagrid pushed. "There's nothing to worry about!"

Slowly, John bowed.

Then everything happened so quickly it seemed just like a blur to him; suddenly a loud bang emerged from behind the Hippogriff.

The creature, just as confused as everyone else, jolted forward, hitting John hard.

He fell to the ground. The next thing he felt was an agonizing jolt of pain as the claws of the hippogriff bored into his shoulder. Then, everything went black.

"John? John, can you hear me?" A deep yet panicked voice called from somewhere far away.

"Hagrid! Is he all right?"

"Look he's bleeding! Oh so much blood!"

"He isn't dead, is he?"

John could hear the shocked chatter of his classmates. His head hurt and there was a pulsing pain in his shoulder.

Even so, he probably hadn't passed out for more than half a minute.

"You have to take him to the hospital wing!" someone, John realized it was Hermione, said. Then John felt strong arms lifting him.

He opened his eyes but his vision was too blurred to make out much. "You'll be all right," Hagrid whispered into his ear, but John wasn't sure whom the gigantic man wanted to assure.

* * *

It turned out John's injury wasn't too bad, at least by wizard standards. The witch at the hospital wing managed to heal it with a single jolt of her wand, but she told him to stay over night just to make sure everything was alright.

John hadn't been conscious long enough to examine the wound properly, but he came to reason that even in the Muggle world it wouldn't have been particularly bad; only the flesh had been injured.

Now, lying in the hospital bed he felt more embarrassed than shocked. Around dinnertime Harry, Ron and Hermione came to visit. All three of them were a little pale.

Apparently his accident had looked way worse than it actually turned out to be.

"Are you okay?" Hermione asked in an anxious voice, trying to get a good view of his shoulder.

"It wasn't that bad." He reassured her, feeling himself blushing a bit at her concern.

"I told you Madame Pomfrey could fix him in no time" Harry said in an annoyed tone, but he couldn't completely hide his own relief.

"Oh, yes, Mr Potter, you indeed should have a good impression of what I'm able to mend by now.

Just ten more minutes" Madame Pomfrey added, glancing at the clock.

"He might be a strong boy, but he really needs some rest after such a day."

"How long do you have to stay here?" Hermione asked matter-of-factly when the nurse left. "You shouldn't miss too many classes..."

"Hermione", Ron interrupted her, "isn't there anything you can think about besides classes?! I for one consider Malfoy's detention to be way more important!"

Harry chuckled at that while Hermione tried to look angry. She couldn't help a little smile herself.

"Oh, yes, you should have seen McGonagall when she heard what Malfoy had done! Even Snape couldn't stop her from assigning Malfoy detention cleaning Medals on every evening next week!"

Hermione's face lit up at her words but John couldn't make much sense of what she said.

"Er... Who is Malfoy?" They all stared at him as if he had asked them if Wizards were real. He hoped he hadn't posed an equally dump question.

"He made the chains explode when you bowed to your Hippogriff" Ron explained. "He made..." John repeated, suddenly remembering the noise before the Hippogriff jumped forward.

"That was what made the noise!" He exclaimed. "But why would he do such thing? He must have known the Hippogriff could hurt someone."

Harry, Ron and Hermione exchanged pointed glances. "You're a new Gryffindor, and Malfoy never liked Hagrid. I bet he just thought it was a great way to 'welcome you' and ruin Hagrid's first lesson."

Ron said, shrugging as if Malfoy wouldn't need much reason to cause injuries to others.

"Time's up!" Madame Pomfrey pointed out. All their protest couldn't keep her from sending the three away.

"Um, wait!" John called after the three when they'd almost reached the door. "Could you please tell Sherlock? I just want him to know what happened and that I'm alright."

The three exchanged a quick glance. "He didn't come here yet?", Hermione finally said. "I went to him right after Care of Magical Creatures... I figured you were close so he should know where to look for you."

"Maybe he's been here while Madame Pomfrey healed me", John muttered though knowing it wasn't true; the healing had only taken a few minutes and if Sherlock really wanted to see him he surely would've found a way.

The rest of the evening John spent staring up at the ceiling and waiting for Sherlock to show up. He knew that it was childish, that he was old enough to go through such situations alone.

He had been to war, for God's sake! But still he couldn't help feeling like a boy who had just had a miserable first day of school and had been abandoned by his best friend.

He also knew that he shouldn't care what his classmates thought of him, or worry about the essay he had to write for Transfiguration, but exactly these things were on his mind until he finally fell asleep late at night.

* * *

Just as Madame Pomfrey had said before, John was dismissed on the next morning. She took a brief look on his shoulder, which he now realized was as scarless as he had seen it in the past two years, and declared he was "completely healed".

Much to his surprise, he even managed to find the way down to the Hall without too much trouble (he had to ask three portraits, a student and a ghost, but only made one wrong turn) .

The first lesson Gryffindors had was Potions. John felt his heart jump as he remembered that it was one of the subjects he shared with Sherlock.

Indeed, the Detective was already waiting in the dungeon when John arrived at the classroom. Before he could exchange more than glance with Sherlock, Professor Snape, the Potion's teacher, arrived.

Before starting the class, Snape read through the list of names. "Fowl, Artemis?" he asked after telling Seamus he wouldn't pass class if he didn't improve his work by far.

The pale boy who John already knew from the train and from Care of Magical Creatures looked up, apparently not bothering to answer aloud.

"You are a new student, are you not?" Artemis gave a small nod. John heard Sherlock snort in annoyance at the teacher uttering such obvious information.

"Being in Slytherin I'm counting on you not being half as much of an idiot as the rest of the class is."

He gave the Gryffindors a glare before continuing to "Holmes, Sherlock? Another new student, clearly. Although, I can't remember you being sorted into either Slytherin or Gryffindor. Mr Holmes?"

Snape's black, piercing eyes turned to Sherlock, who of course didn't seem to be affected in any way, except for a bit of amusement perhaps.

"I can assure you, your memory works perfectly well if you've been in doubt of that." Sherlock answered matter-of-factly.

A nuance of darkening in Snape's eyes showed that he had noticed the note of belittlement in the last part of the statement.

"So why aren't you with others of your house? I know everything is new to you, but I would've trusted an oh-so-smart Ravenclaw to at least read his time-table."

Some of the Slytherins laughed meanly, but Sherlock wasn't easy to tell down.

"And you, being a teacher, I would've trusted to be able to read the note you certainly got about me joining this class."

You could literally feel the temperature drop. Apparently no one ever had challenged Snape this way. The whole class was holding its breath awaiting his reaction.

"A really smart one we have here." Snape finally said in a dangerously low voice."Then, Mr. Holmes, if you're so intelligent, tell me where to find a bezoar."

The detective didn't answer instantly, but when John shot him a short look, he could see that the detective's lips had twisted into a smirk. "I'm positively sure to find one in your office."

John was positively sure that Sherlock would've dropped dead if looks could kill.

For several moments, Sherlock and Snape did nothing but hold each other's gazes, before Snape finally said in dangerously low voice: "You seem to consider yourself quite smart, Mr. Holmes. In your place I would pay attention. Don't overestimate yourself."

Then, Snape turned to John. "And the third new student. I've already heard about you, Mr Watson. Didn't manage get out of a Hippogriff's way in time? Just so you know, the brewing of potions requires much attention. You had best be cautious in my class."

John felt himself turning red. "Yes, sir."

"Good" Snape snarled. "I don't want a second Longbottom in my class."

John could see Neville starting to shake already. With a wave of his wand, Snape made instructions appear on the black board.

Everyone hurried to follow them. The moaning of the class told John that the potion Snape wanted them to brew wasn't exactly an easy one, but he was less frightened to do something wrong than he'd been in Transfiguration.

Except for changing the temperature of the fire, no magic was needed and the indigents he didn't know he could figure out by looking at the tables of the others.

He decided to not pay too much attention to Neville's table though, as the boy's potion was already of a sickening green. After ten minutes, John's liquid had turned bright yellow, which much to his excitement barely differed from the image shown in the textbook.

He glanced to the others: Artemis's, Sherlock's and Hermione's potions were at least as good as his own (and considering their intelligence, probably better), but the rest of class had produced a broad range of liquids, which's colours ranged from light oranges to dark reds.

Snape went through the class giving points to every Slytherin student, assigning Artemis 50 whereas Goyle, who's potion was black as night, got 5.

Then he turned to the Gryffindors, deducting points from them. Neville lost 50 points, Harry and Ron both lost 30 even though Harry's potion was better than Ron's, as far as John could tell.

When Snape passed Hermione and John, whose potions were both textbook, he simply said nothing, but judging by the way he'd treated the other Gryffindors, that was quite an honour.

When coming to Sherlock's cauldron, Snape paused taking an especially long look to see if there was anything wrong.

John saw the teacher's lips become a thin line, then, they twisted into a smile. "

You'll get in trouble for this", Snape said so quietly John wasn't even sure he had heard it right.

"What was that?" John asked, when Snape had left, but all Sherlock gave him was a mysterious smile.


	7. The Bogart

John's happiness about giving neither McGonagall nor Snape a reason to complain didn't last for much more than a day: He had decided to take his breakfast at the Ravenclaw table and walk to Defence Against the Dark Arts with Sherlock, who was sharing the class with Gryffindor.

The meal already had been quite disappointing; the Consulting Detective had ignored John almost completely and had talked only to Artemis about some fairy technologies which John couldn't understand.

That was just the beginning: Sherlock didn't care about arriving at lessons punctually, and they were almost ten minutes late.  
Professor Lupin cleared his throat and gave them a little smile.

"Couldn't find the classroom?" he asked cheerfully. Sherlock and Artemis both didn't feel compelled to answer whereas John mumbled 'Sorry'.

Lupin looked down on his list.

"Mr Fowl, Mr Holmes and" he frowned looking from the list to John, "Mr Watson? Well, even though you are new students, arriving ten minutes late can hardly be tolerated... Ten points from Gryffindor, Ravenclaw and Slytherin."

It was the first time John had lost points and he shifted uncomfortably as he felt the glares of some fellow students. Hermione whose answer they'd interrupted gave him a frown.

"Exactly" Lupin nodded as Hermione had finished her answer. "And now we're going to test it on a living example."  
He reached under his desk and presented them a big wooden box.  
"In here", he explained whilst opening the lock, "is a real Bogart. I found it in a broom closet, and Mr Filch was kind enough to allow us to take it for practicing as long as we ensure that it doesn't escape. Who wants to be first?"

Lupin's eyes searched the class finally settling on John. "Mr Watson... I'm sure you're eager to make up for your late arrival?"

John nodded reluctantly and got up. What the hell was he supposed to do? And what was this 'Bogart'-thing anyway?

"Are you ready?" Not even giving John time to disagree, Lupin opened the box.

At first nothing happened, then the candles lighting the classroom became dim before finally being extinguished. Then, from the box, there rose an enormous creature, almost four meters tall. John couldn't help wondering how it had fit in there. The proportions of the creature reminded of these of a human, but John couldn't say for sure; it was wearing an all black coat. The face of the creature was hidden under its hood, but John managed to get a glimpse at one the hands. They were silverish and looked like they'd been in water for too long. The creature came closer and John realized its feet weren't touching the ground. Suddenly some pupil behind him started to scream.

John, who had up to now been too absorbed in the creature's appearance to be frightened, took a step back, hitting a table. Without thinking he raised his hands waving with the still unfamiliar wand. As before in Transfiguration the appropriate spell suddenly popped up in his mind.

But before he could voice it, he suddenly heard a woman's voice: "Not Harry... No!"

He spun around for a moment's notice expecting to see his sister, yet there was no one but the students and Lupin. Then, a cruel laughter filled the room

John's eyes searched the room moving rapidly. He still couldn't figure out where the sound came from yet something else caught his eyes: Sherlock expression was frozen and displayed fear. Real fear... "Ridikulus!" Lupin's voice was loud and determined. Instantly the creature disappeared, being replaced by a white balloon, before Lupin finished it up with another spell.

Without looking at John, who was still standing in front of the class with a raised wand, the teacher hurried past the first row to Harry who had apparently fallen to the ground.  
"Harry! Harry, are you all right?" Lupin bent over the boy who now started to cough and finally sat up.  
"I'm fine, I'm fine" Harry assured in a rather hoarse sounding voice. "It's nothing..."

Lupin nodded and produced an enormous chocolate bar from his pocket.

"I've already told you this'll help, haven't I?" he said with smile and Harry took the chocolate reluctantly. The flush appearing on his face revealed his embarrassment. John, having faced a similar situation just a few days ago, could totally understand him.

After Lupin had made sure Harry wouldn't need to go to the hospital wing, the Professor turned to John.

"Don't you think, you should've warned us, Mr Watson? I think the class should've known that they were about to face a Dementor!"  
John nodded despite not being sure what he'd done wrong. Why was it his fault the creature suddenly stood in the classroom? Furthermore, it hadn't seemed all that scary to him.

"I think we can refrain from detention as this the first lesson, but you should be aware that I'll watch closely if you chose endanger others again."

John nodded another time. "And ten points from Gryffindor", Lupin added. John winced. Another ten points lost by him. Even if you counted those McGonagall had given him he had a negative balance now.  
Lupin decided to end the lesson early as he didn't think it would be a good idea to face the Bogart again, so they only read the introduction of the textbook.

"What the hell IS a Bogart?" John asked as soon as Lupin had told the class they were dismissed. He hadn't dared to talk during the lesson since he didn't want to give Lupin anymore reasons to take points from him.

"A magical creature", Sherlock answered. "It turns into whatever the one facing it fears the most." John frowned. "Are you sure? I mean this thing it turned into was scary of course, but not what I'd think to be my greatest fear..."

This statement clearly evoked Sherlock's interest. "Are you sure? What would it be then?" John didn't reply instantly; there were several things frightening him, but it was hard to tell which was the worst. Finally, his thoughts settled on Sherlock being hurt or even dead, but he was reluctant admit that.

"I don't know... But for sure not a weird creature I've never seen before..."

Sherlock frowned. "You have seen a Dementor before. At the train."

"No. No, I would remember seeing such a weird creature."

For a moment there was the rare expression of confusion displayed on Sherlock's face.

"You must have seen them! They searched the train! One was in our compartment!"

Now it was John's turn to look startled.

"Maybe I was too busy watching the tutorial", he finally suggested half-heartedly.

"Impossible, you would've..." Sherlock's voice trailed off. "The Dementor in the classroom, did it have any effects on you?"

John frowned not sure where Sherlock wanted to go.

"What do mean 'effects'?"

"Did it make you... feel something?"

"Feel something? No, I guess not..."

"What did you think as you were facing it?"

John shrugged. "What the hell am I supposed to think? How did it fit in this box? I dunno something like that."

"That's interesting. That's really interesting!"

Amazement lit Sherlock's face just like it usually did whenever there had been a mysterious murder.

"Sherlock, what the hell is going on? What effects should the Dementor have on me?"

"Dementors steal every happy memory from you!" Sherlock exclaimed. He somehow managed to make it sound like the most exciting thing that could have happened to a person. "Every bit of happiness is absorbed, and they leave you with nothing but your darkest memories! They make you feel like you would never be anything but sad ever again... Does that sound familiar to you in any way?"

Actually, it kind of described what John had felt like after coming back from Afghanistan, but certainly it had nothing to do with the moderate fear he'd felt when facing the Dementor.

"No, not really... But maybe it just don't work on everyone, maybe it depends on your character how much they influence you..."

Sherlock shock his head vehemently. "No way, after all it worked on me... I think I have to discuss this with Artemis."

Without any further explanation, the Detective walked off.

"Don't you have a lesson?" John called after him, despite knowing that there wasn't any point in reminding Sherlock of such mundane things.

"Are you sure he isn't lying?" Artemis asked for the second time. He didn't usually repeat himself, especially not with Sherlock, but this time he had to be absolutely certain.

"Of course I am", Sherlock said in an annoyed way. "John wouldn't lie to me. Even if he did, I could easily tell. We both know he is quite an open book."

Artemis nodded, but there was still a frown on his face.

How was it possible the Dementors didn't affect John Watson? There was no other such case recorded as far Artemis could tell, and he had checked a third of the library books by now.

"Maybe everything is about Sirius Black after all," Sherlock mused.

"Because he managed to escape from the Dementors?" Never before had someone escaped from Azkaban, the same way John's inertness was a first.

Sherlock nodded and started to burn little holes in the tapestry they were hiding behind with his wand. Artemis scowled. As much as he appreciated Sherlock's brilliance, he couldn't stand his negligence of art treasures.

"Do you have any theories why John doesn't show a reaction?" Artemis asked to distract Sherlock from damaging the ancient carpet. Again it was a question already posed. It frustrated both of them they were running circles.

"You know very well I don't. For Black it is possible that he is wicked enough not to have any 'bad' memories, but that doesn't work for John.  
He's had PTSD, a psychosomatic limp even."

Artemis ran his hand through his hair in exasperation. The pieces just didn't fit together.

"Let's say there are certain people not affected by the Dementors. They ought to have something in common, but it is impossible to figure out what the link is with just two examples, one of which we hardly know anything about. Conclusion?"

"We have to find more people", Sherlock finished without hesitation; they were usually able to follow each other's trains of thought effortlessly; finishing them for another.


	8. Subjects

The following weeks passed quite quickly. With all the lessons and homework, John almost forgot that he wasn't a normal student at Hogwarts like everybody else, and instead an adult with a "normal" life at London.

Just like the others, he'd soon made out which of his classes he liked and which he didn't. However, his opinions were quite uncommon for a Gryffindor student, especially concerning two subjects in particular:

Of course, he agreed with everyone else that History of Magic was the most boring subject ever invented, and that Care of Magical Creatures wasn't much better, since Hagrid had only let them work with Flubberworms ever since John's "accident" (of course he didn't mention the latter to Harry, Ron and Hermione).

His opinion that Divination was balderdash was also commonly shared by the other third-years, except for maybe Lavender and Pavatie. It was the subject that he hated the most that was quite an exceptional choice: It was Defence against the Dark Arts.

Is wasn't that he was particularly bad at it, or afraid of the dark creatures brought into the classroom, it was more about Lupin, who was everyone else's favourite teacher.

Lupin didn't treat him unfairly exactly, or showed an animosity towards him comparable to Snape's toward Harry, but still John found that Lupin treated him differently from the rest of the class: whenever John arrived late, which had not been exceptionally often, Lupin took points from him, whereas Harry and Ron or even Sherlock didn't have to face this punishment.

Once, John had lost ten points for being two minutes late, even though he had explained that it had only been because Flittwick had wanted to speak to him, on the same day that Sherlock had gotten nothing more than a half-hearted angry look for walking in the classroom ten minutes later without any kind of explanation.

Of course, one could assume that Lupin had just forgotten that he'd already taken points off John, but things like this added up. Whenever they were casting a spell together with a partner, Lupin seemed to watch John particularly closely, and usually made him team up with Neville.

It wasn't like John didn't like Neville, he just wasn't the type of boy one wanted to practice spells with: Either Neville managed no spell at all and John did little more than just stand around, or Neville's spell turned out so completely wrong one couldn't tell what kind of witchcraft it was until it hit someone.

Since Neville wasn't too brilliant at aiming, it normally wasn't John who he hit, but it was always John who was told by Lupin he should have made sure Neville could perform the spell.

At these occasions, John felt quite tempted to tell Lupin that Neville would never learn the spells, or that Lupin was the teacher after all, but he swallowed these statements, as they would probably only make everything worse.

Defence against the Dark Arts was also the subject he shared with both Sherlock and Artemis, which meant he had to watch the two practising spells together.

He knew it was stupid, but he couldn't help feeling a little jealous: Sherlock seemed to hang out with Artemis more than he did with him, and when he saw the two of them firing spells, advanced ones not comparable to those John tried to practice with Neville, he couldn't help thinking that they were a perfect match.

Not in the romantically sense of course –neither Artemis nor Sherlock seemed to have any interest in the subject- but in the soul mate sort of way.

Once, when John had been really desperate too flee from Neville, he had suggested that Artemis team up with the clumsy boy just once. All Sherlock had done was raise an eyebrow and immobilize John with a spell before saying that he didn't want to hurt him when he practised.

John's favourite subject was also quite an unpopular choice for a Gryffindor: It was Potions. It wasn't that Snape would give him any points or show any approval for John's work, but the fact the teacher had never talked to him except for the very first lesson was quite an honour when compared to the criticism Ron and Harry had to face lesson after lesson.

It was also the only subject in which he was just as good as Sherlock and the other two geniuses (as he'd secretly labelled Artemis and Hermione). Naturally, he wasn't better than them, but he was certainly no worse, which no one else happened to be in any subject, except maybe for Divination, but that hardly counted.

Even making today's Potion, which was designed to cure all sorts of wounds and was fairly difficult to brew, he was doing quite well. All other potions -besides the ones of the geniuses- had turned a completely different colour than the required green and certainly weren't easy to stir, while his own was exactly the way it was supposed to be according to the textbook.

John was just going over to the material closet to collect some snails (Sherlock had taken his last ones) when suddenly something behind him exploded. Reflexively, he ducked behind the cupboard door, managing not to get hit by any of the red liquid that was all over the classroom and his screaming classmates.

Snape, who'd been doing something in his office, rushed back into the classroom.

"Longbottom! What have you done this time?"

Snape, of course, had been right about who had caused the explosion. Neville didn't answer though. He was absorbed in the sight of his arm, which was covered in the liquid from the cauldron. The other students were moaning too, nursing whatever parts of their bodies the liquid had touched.

Snape, becoming aware of the seriousness of the situation, carefully touched some of the liquid with the tip of his wand lifting it to eye level, to take a closer look.

"All who have been in touch with what came from Longbottom's cauldron to the Hospital wing. Immediately."

The classroom emptied quickly. The fact that even Sherlock and Artemis didn't hesitate to leave, made it clear that the liquid had to be quite painful.

"What about you?" Snape snapped at John. He turned out to be the only one staying.

"I wasn't hit, Sir", he explained.

Snape seemed to be considering this for a moment. Then he nodded.

"You can help to clean up this mess."

* * *

Artemis and Sherlock grinned at each other as they slipped out the classroom. It was Mrs Pince's morning off and they finally had the chance to sneak into the forbidden part of the library. They had been there during the night already, but apparently the protection spells were too subtle for even them to detect, and they hadn't been willing to take the risk of being caught.

"You'll take the right side?"

Sherlock nodded strolling off to the Potion's section while Artemis searched in Dark Creatures. It was hardly possible that John Watson and (maybe) Sirius Black were the only ones who'd ever shown a resistance to Dementors, and if there had been such cases before, they had to be recorded somewhere.

Artemis skimmed through several books, but the only thing he found that helped against Dementors was the Patronus spell, which he had already found and performed properly weeks ago.

"Expecto Patronum", he whispered, quietly watching the white falcon with a smile. Then he turned back to the books, proceeding to those about mental magic. Maybe there was another way to mask one's fears than a Patronus.

Artemis knew his time was running out; soon there would be other students in the library. He reached for heavy red book pulling it from the shelf.

_Fears and Desires. _He leafed through the old, heavy pages, stopping at page 427. It showed the scrape of a mirror; one he was pretty sure he had seen already.

* * *

"Where's Harry?" John asked as he sat down next to Ron and Hermione for lunch.

Once Snape had showed him how to wave Neville's potion away, they had cleaned the classroom quite quickly. Snape had allowed him to finish his potions afterwards, even giving him an approving smile at the end.

Because of that, he'd been late for lunch, and while Hermione and Ron –just as Artemis and Sherlock with short look to the Slytherin table assured- had already returned from the hospital wing, Harry wasn't to be seen anywhere.  
"Harry's gotten some of the potions in his eyes", Hermione explained with sympathy in her voice.

"But Madame Pomfrey will be able to heal him, won't she?" John didn't knew much about the wizards' ability to heal, but Hermione's and Madame Pomfrey's works on his wounds had amazed him, and he couldn't imagine Ron and Hermione would sit here without him, if Harry'd suffered serious damage.

"Of course she will", Hermione assured, "But it'll take some time..."

"She said Harry wouldn't be able to see much during the next few days", Ron added grimly.

Hermione sighed. "Imagine how many classes he's going to miss..."

Ron rolled his eyes. "As if anyone would care about classes! He will miss the Quidditch game on Sunday. How are we supposed to win without our Seeker?"

"Oh, Ron, all you ever care about is Quidditch" Hermione snapped. As the two got joined up in an argument about the importance of classes and Quidditch John filled his plate. He usually stayed out of their arguments, always afraid to say the wrong things or reveal his ignorance of basic facts of the wizarding world.

"Who will be missing the game?" A seventh year with a worried expression had come over.

"Oh, hi Oliver", Ron greeted him, "I wanted to look for you. It's Harry, he's gotten some potion of Neville's into his eyes and can't see properly..."

The older student's face became so pale John feared he would pass out.

"What? Are you sure? I mean the game is still four days away... For sure Madame Pomfrey can restore him before then!"

Ron shook his head in an apologetic way. "We already asked her, she said there's no way."

The older student cursed using some swear words John had never heard before as he hurried away.

* * *

"The trails for the new seeker are going to start tomorrow!" Ron said excitedly after he had managed to elbow his way back through the crowd gathered around the notification board.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Your best friend is in the hospital wing and you're excited that his position is re-assigned!"

John could tell from her tone she didn't mind much, though. Harry was getting better every day and could already make out vague silhouettes. The day after tomorrow he would probably attend classes again.

"Are you going to try out?", Neville, who had joined them, asked. "I've heard Ginny has asked Fred to borrow his broom already."

"Ginny?" Ron's eyes widened. "I don't think I've ever seen her sitting on a broom!"

Neville shrugged. "That's was Fred said, too."

"What about me?" Fred came over to them, his twin George right behind him. "Oh, yes Ginny. I told her, if she really wants to fly into the bleachers she should use a school broom at least. Got a little furious afterwards I think..."

George chuckled. "Just a little? From the look in her eyes I was afraid she would murder one of us!"

"Well, anyway, I'm curious if she's really keen to try out... I wouldn't want our family's reputation for great Quidditch players to be damaged."

"That would be horrible", George agreed. "At least our little brother doesn't have such stupid ideas... Or were you about to ask for a broom, too, Ron?"

"No, of course not!" But Ron's laughter was a little too high. When the twins had disappeared Hermione asked with a frown: "Didn't you just ask Harry for his Nimbus?"

Ron blushed. "I just thought... I've practised with Charlie a little..." He cleared his throat and turned to John. "How about you? Want to try out for seeker?"

"Me?" John had not even taken it in consideration. "No, I haven't…" He was about to say 'ever sat on a broom' but his voice trailed off as he realized it might sound awkward.

"Oh, come on!" Ron said without noticing the abrupt stop of John's sentence. "You can't be worse than Ginny and I'd really like to try out with a friend."

John knew Ron uttered the word 'friend' without giving it much thought but it triggered a strong reaction in John. He'd never been as antisocial as Sherlock, but there had not been many people in his life who he considered as friends, and vice versa.

"All right, why not?"

He attempted a smile, already knowing he would regret his words later.

* * *

**Thanks to everyone reading, favouriting and reviewing this story so far!  
Any ideas which mirror Artemis has found in the book (shouldn't be too hard ;) )? And what he and Sherlock will see in it? **


	9. Quidditch

John wondered how he could possibly have considered himself nervous before the Sorting. Putting on a hat seemed to be quite an easy task compared to flying on a broomstick trying to catch a little racing ball.

"You're shaking," Hermione said, concerned.

"No, I'm not", he lied quickly and stuffed his trembling hand into his pockets. "Have you seen how the others have done so far?"

John had walked straight to the locker room to get dressed, as he had been late because

Sherlock, who had shown painfully little interest in him during the past weeks, had engaged him in a pointless conversation.

"Well, I guess Quidditch is about the only thing that Ron knows more about than me",

Hermione said with a wink. "Ginny flew quite well, though another of the second years crashed into the bleachers..."

John swallowed hard. Crashing into the bleachers didn't sound particularly healthy.

Hermione took a quick look at her watch. "I think Ron is going to be next. We better go out to watch him."

John nodded not feeling like talking. His stomach had gone queasy already.

"Good luck!" Hermione whispered to Ron as they passed him. He just nodded, his face pale and his expression blank.

"I don't understand why you are doing this to yourself. Both you and Ron look like you're about to face your own execution!" Hermione said once they'd settled on some seats not too far up as John's turn was soon to come.

John laughed nervously, not knowing how else to answer. Indeed, why was he doing this to himself?

The trails were organized into several rounds following the simple principle of two students competing and the winner getting into the next round to compete another time.

Winner was whoever caught the Snitch first. If both opponents failed to get it within twenty minutes they were both out. Wood didn't want the trials to last forever. The two students flying before Ron, both second years who hadn't appeared very secure on their brooms "timed out" and the audience showed certain relief when they finally left the field.

As Ron entered the stadium he was still very pale; not meeting his opponent's eyes when they shook hands. But once they were up in the air John could see that Ron actually was a good flyer: He manoeuvred the broom effortlessly and even did a little dive.

His opponent, a fifth year, had more trouble. John figured that it could be because he was flying on one of the school brooms, though, as they were said to be a little tipsy. At least he would be also using Harry's Nimbus.

For almost five minutes Ron and the fifth year did little else than lapping, scanning the stadium for the snitch. Then, suddenly, Ron dived down. His opponent tried to follow him, but he on one side of the stadium, and the snitch tried to escape in the direction of the other. Then, after several yards of chase, almost at the goalposts, Ron raised his hand in triumph. The audience applauded and Ron, who was grinning a little now, handed the Snitch to Oliver Wood.

"Congratulations!" Hermione and John cheered, as they ran down to the pitch.

"Well, I guess the other didn't have much of a chance with a school broom anyway..." Ron said modestly, but his grin told that he was actually quite proud.

"Here", Ron handed the Nimbus to John. "It's really great, reacts to every little movement."

John forced a smile, trying not to think about the fact that he would actually leave the ground on this small piece of wood.

"Thanks... I don't think I'll do as good as you though..."

There was only one other game left before John's trial and he felt his heart beating in his chest violently.

Nervously he taped the broomstick, then, finally the two girls before him timed out and it was his turn. John's hands were shaking so hard now that he made no effort to hide it. Slowly, he got on the broom. Why hadn't he tried to fly the day before? It would've been quite comforting to have sat on a broomstick before...

Then, Wood whistled and John, following his instincts, pushed himself up into the sky.

Much to his surprise the nauseous feeling was gone instantly. He looked down at the ground he was slowly getting father away from, but he wasn't afraid to fall anymore. The nimbus' climb was steady and as it responded instantly to a soft tilt to the left he was determined it was going to do whatever he wanted it to. A cool breeze ruffled his hair and he could help a smile. Why had he been hesitant to fly? It was great! Effortlessly he directed the broom into a climb, then even did a short dive. It felt natural.  
Then, he remembered his task. The other seeker was doing circles beneath him scanning the stadium for a hint of the snitch. Quickly John started to do the same, racing across the pitch with more speed than necessary for he liked the sensation of the Nimbus accelerating. He had just surrounded the goalposts when he saw something golden just in the middle circle.

Without thinking, he dived down, changing direction when the snitch attempted to escape to his right. He lifted a hand from the broom... then he had it. He ended the dive with his feet mere inches from the ground.

The crowd were clapping and Wood nodded approvingly.

"Fastest catch so far. You played where you came from?" John shook his head, then went

over to Ron and Hermione.

"Why did you even hesitate to apply?" Ron asked excitedly. "Your flight was amazing!"

"You almost gave me a heart attack!" Hermione exclaimed, "Even Harry doesn't dive like

this!"

"He'll hit the ground! Oh Ron, he'll hit the ground!" Ron said in a high voice, apparently imitating Hermione.

"Shut up!" Hermione snapped, blushing a little.

"They're almost through!" Ron looked to the timetable. "Hope I won't have to play against

you in the next round," he added with a wink.

* * *

As the trials went on, John was surprised his first quick catch hadn't just been beginner's luck. In the following rounds, he always managed to spot the snitch in less than three minutes, catching it was the easy part. The only time John had been at risk of loosing was when the Snitch had been hovering right next to the other seekers ear, but John had managed to get it with a somersault.

Ron had managed to get in the semi finale as well. He hadn't won his trails as convincingly as John had done, but hadn't flown bad either.

A big surprise for everyone – especially her brothers' – was that Ginny Weasley had reached the semi finale too. She was flying an old school broom obviously reluctant to do as she wanted it to, but she had bailed it through her trials.

The fourth player in the semi-finals was a fifth year, towering over the rest of them all by a head. Ron was going to compete against him, and John was going to play against Ginny.

It had gotten dark by now, and John found it got increasingly hard to spot the Snitch.

He had been circling for almost five minutes now and there hadn't been the smallest hint of the small golden ball. Then suddenly, he noticed it: at the other side of the field, there was a shimmer. Only Ginny had seen it too, and she was closer.

John cursed silently, laying flat down on his broom to increase his speed. The snitch shifted slightly to the left, getting even closer to Ginny. But her broom wouldn't let her change direction: John could see her tearing at her broomstick, but it just continued flying straight.

Effortlessly, John ducked underneath her and mere seconds later he had the Snitch. He could see Ginny glaring at him and he felt a little bad for making the catch just because her broom was ignoring her. Indecisive, he sank to the ground. Ginny cursed silently next to him. He bit his lip, then went to Wood explaining he'd only caught the Snitch because

of Ginny's broom. Wood listened to him but then shook his head. "It's bad luck... If I let everyone complain about school brooms we'd be standing here until the game against

Slytherin commences." Ginny who'd jointed them nodded as well.

"You've flown better than me before anyway."

John blushed slightly at the compliment, then handed the Nimbus to Ron.

The other semi finale seemed to go on forever. Both Ron and the fifth year spotted the Snitch twice without being able to catch it and John couldn't help to shake his head at this.

Then finally, Ron dived down near the goalpost. John leaned forward and indeed there was the small ball again.

Come on, he thought, it's not that hard now.

And in indeed: Ron bailed the Nimbus down and reached out with his arm. Seconds later he had the Snitch. John clapped along with the others. The bleachers had filled by now:

Most of the Gryffindors were there, along with some curious spectators from other houses.

One could hear Wood complaining loudly about being spied on ever since the first

Slytherin had arrived.

"Have you figured out who's going to get Harry's broom yet?" Wood asked when both Ron and John were standing with him.

John looked to Ron. He hadn't thought of it beforehand.

"You'll take the Nimbus", he said then quickly. He had benefited from the broom already.

If he won the trails he wanted to because of his talent, which he hadn't even been aware of just hours ago. Ron opened his mouth but John firmly grabbed one of the school brooms lying around.

"I'll be fine with this one."

Ron nodded and they shook hands before climbing their brooms.

"Ready?" Wood asked. Both of them nodded and Oliver whistled.

They scuffed. John felt how his broom was different from the Nimbus after just a few yards, but it was still definitely better than the one Ginny had used.

As always, they did little else than circling in the first few minutes, always passing each other near the goals. John eyes scanned the field, and he could feel the adrenalin pulsing in his veins; he wanted to win this, he wanted to fly in a real game, to dodge bludgers, to play for Gryffindor.

Then, he spotted the Snitch. It was right where Ron was, just a few yards underneath him.

John cursed. This was the third time that stupid thing was way closer to his opponent than to him. Even so, Ron hadn't spotted it yet. Trying not to look to Ron too obviously, John dived down, hoping Ron would think the Snitch was with John.

It worked. Ron bailed the Nimbus to where John was, totally oblivious to the fact that it was in truth just some yards from him. John dived deeper, waiting for Ron to be half way over the field. Then, he abruptly changed direction heading for the real Snitch instead. They had about the same distance to go now, and Ron would've beaten him with the Nimbus effortlessly under normal circumstances, but he was too startled to go after the snitch instantly.

Some seconds later John held up his fist triumphantly, a broad smile on his face.

* * *

When they were all back in Gryffindor tower Fred and George wanted to throw a party but Wood shook his head, insisting that they should get some sleep; the game was already only one night away.

They could celebrate John then, when he'd caught the snitch for them, Wood pointed out.. John blushed slightly as he noticed the confidence in Wood's voice. He didn't even seem to think of the possibility John would fail.

John had wanted to finish his Transformation homework in the Common Room but Wood approached him every five minutes, asking when he would go to bed. He resigned put his work aside with a sigh.

"All right, all right." He raised his hands defiantly when Oliver came for the sixth time.

"I'll rest now. Satisfied?"

* * *

**I just wanted to thank you all the reviews I received for the last chapter! I definitely loved every single one of them! **


	10. The Mirror of Erised

John was woken by someone shaking him. He blinked sleepily. Had he slept in? Was Wood waking him because he was about to miss the start of the game? No, it was still all dark.

"It's not morning yet..." he muttered, turning away from whoever had interrupted his sleep.

"I'm not going to look for either Scabbers or Toad..." he added, remembering when Ron had woken him at three am just to ask if he'd seen Scabbers. Ron had been determined Hermione's cat had eaten his rat and they had searched their dormitory for an entire hour, just to find Scabbers safe and sound, fast asleep next to Ron's pillow.

There was a scoff. "John, get up now."

"Sherlock? How did you get in here?" John sat up abruptly, trying to see through the darkness.

"Through the door." The Consulting Detective sounded slightly annoyed. "Will you come now? Artemis is waiting."

"Why? Did something happen?" John asked, putting on his shoes. He knew very well Sherlock wouldn't allow him to get dressed properly, even if they were about to go to the Forbidden Forest.

"No", Sherlock said impatiently. "It's just an experiment... And be quiet, for God's sake."

"Experiment?" John whispered, following Sherlock through the dark Common Room. "An experiment at - what is it? Two a.m.?"

"Three", Sherlock corrected and held the portrait hole open so John could climb through.

"I've got a Quidditch match today! I need to be rested..." John hissed and a little proudly he added: "I was cast as a seeker."

For a moment John hoped for some kind of approval, hoped that Sherlock might congratulate him. But all the Detective did was raising an eyebrow as if he questioned John's state of mind.

"Do you honestly think I care about Quidditch?"

John looked down. "No, of course not."

Silently, he followed Sherlock through the empty corridors. The confidence and security with which Sherlock walked told John he was not roaming the dark castle for the first time. They took several passageways that John did not know, or perhaps just didn't recognize in the pale moonlight.

He was about to ask where they were going when Sherlock stopped at a girls' bathroom.

"A girls' bathroom?" John asked incredulously when Sherlock entered it. "We're not going to wait until morning for someone to come in so we can experiment with her, are we?"

There was a snort from the other side of the bathroom.

"Of course not." Artemis who had been leaning to a wall turned to Sherlock: "Does he always have such hilarious ideas?"

"Sometimes, yes", Sherlock confirmed and went over to the Slytherin boy. "Does it work?"

Artemis nodded.

"Does what work?" Ignoring John's question, Sherlock turned to the sink: "_Open up_."

John's eyes widened when the sink obeyed Sherlock's words, shifting to reveal a hole.

"What's this?"

"The Chamber of Secrets. Don't worry the Basilisk was killed last year."

John had no idea what a Basilisk was but apparently it wasn't on the top of the lists of things you wanted to share a cup of tea with.

Before John could ask any more questions both Sherlock and Artemis slid into the hole, and John had no choice but to follow them. With slight surprise he noticed he was entering a pipe, but at least it had started underneath a sink and not a toilet.

He seemed to slide down for ages, cold air rushing over his body, which was still dressed in nothing but his flimsy pyjamas. Shivering, he regretted not having grabbed a cloak at least.

Finally, the pipe ended and he hit the ground hard.

"How the hell are we going to get back up there?" John stood up and let his fingers ran over the smooth surface of the pipe.

"Easy. _Stairs_," Artemis said and they formed.

"Okay," John said, stressing the second syllable. You should think he had gotten used to things moving on command by now.

He looked around: They were in a cave, deep underneath the castle. The walls were shimmering wet and to their left stretched a corridor going even deeper into the mountain the school had been build on.

They didn't go any farther, however, but Artemis and Sherlock turned to a strange object that had been standing in the cave all along though, John hadn't noticed it at first. It was a mirror.

"Is this the experiment?" John asked. "Looking into a mirror?" Had one of them turned into a vampire or something?

"This isn't just an ordinary mirror. This is the Mirror of Erised. It shows the greatest desire of whoever looks into it."

"And what do you need me for?" John eyed the mirror warily. He didn't like things that seemed to able to read his mind.

Artemis rolled his eyes. "Just look into it and tell us what you see."

John frowned but nevertheless stepped in front of the mirror. At first he saw nothing, then a figure came into view. It was a boy with dark messy hair. Maybe it was Sherlock?

But as the image sharpened John realized it wasn't the Consulting Detective: It was Harry Potter. John's eyebrows furrowed. Why did he see Harry Potter of all people?

Before he could wonder anymore there was a sudden flash of green light. It hit Harry, sending him to the ground.

John gasped unable to turn his gaze from Harry's eyes. They starred up at him emptily. The boy was dead.

John backed away, his heart racing. "What does the mirror show?" he whispered. Maybe he'd misunderstood Sherlock or maybe it had been just a trick to discover his greatest fear. Sherlock and Artemis exchanged glances.

"It shows your deepest desire", Artemis confirmed. "What did you see?"

"Me. Winning the house cup."

John stammered the first thing that came to his mind. The world around him was spinning. His hidden desire was to murder Harry Potter. To murder an innocent boy. He couldn't even think of why, and he wasn't sure if he wanted to find out.

"Sorry", he mumbled and stormed back to the entrance. He felt Sherlock's and Artemis' eyes following him but they were too surprised to hold him back. Or maybe they had expected exactly this.

The set of stairs had turned into a slide again, but when John said "stairs" they transformed back into one. On his way back to Gryffindor tower, it didn't cross his mind to try to move unnoticed, but lucky enough he wasn't spotted by Mrs Norris or any ghost.

He fell onto his bed breathing heavily. Certainly the mirror was mistaken; or Sherlock and Artemis were. Why would he want to kill Harry? He liked the boy.

He had almost calmed himself when his eyes fell on Harry's bed, which was still empty with only the Nimbus resting on it. He remembered the joy of flying and his anticipation for the game. Suddenly, he felt sick. Did he really want to murder Harry to acquire his position as a seeker?

John buried his face deep in his pillow, feeling mean and ashamed.

* * *

Artemis frowned at Sherlock. "Do you have any idea what happened?"

They were still standing in front of the Mirror of Erised. Sherlock shook his head slowly. Whatever John had seen in the mirror had deeply upset him, though. Sherlock wondered what it could've been. John had asked them to confirm if it was indeed desire the Mirror showed, so what he saw was probably something he hadn't expected to wish for.

Sherlock focused on John's reaction; recalling it in detail. John had frowned at first then his eyes had widened in shock. He tried to remember more, anything more specific that would give him a hint of what John had seen.

"Are you sure the mirror works?" he asked Artemis who nodded once again.

"Yes."

Sherlock waited for him to elaborate but the other boy didn't. Still musing, Sherlock stepped in front of the mirror as well. He was himself again, at the beginning of his thirties. He was smirking a little, and held a newspaper. Criminal Mastermind caught by Genius Detective the headline read. There were light bulbs flashing, and next to him there was John of course, beaming at him with admiration.

"See? It shows what it should, doesn't it?" Artemis sighed. "I think we can agree that whatever John saw wasn't the House Cup, though."

"Yes." Sherlock turned away from the mirror. "Even if he lied more convincingly, I would never believe that that's his greatest desire. Even so, he did seem quite excited for the Quidditch match... Speaking of which, did you get everything?"

Artemis nodded firmly. "Everything's ready."

* * *

John couldn't tell when he finally fell asleep, and the little sleep he got was unsteady and spoiled with nightmares of Harry's accusing eyes starring at him.

When it was time to get up, he just felt tired.

"Didn't sleep well?" Hermione asked in the Great Hall at break fast.

He shook his head. "Not particularly, no..."

"Well, I bet you'll catch the Snitch in no time anyway!" Ron clapped reassuringly on his back. "And honestly; Malfoy is such a dumb-ass he wouldn't get the Snitch even if it was right in front of his nose!"

"Don't underestimate the enemy, Ron." Wood had come to their table. "John, how are you feeling? Ready to show the Slytherins who is the best Quidditch team in school?"

John forced a smile, trying not to look into Wood excited eyes. Just yesterday he had been just as anxious for the game, but now all he could think off were Harry's dead green eyes starring at him accusingly. How could that possibly be his greatest desire, if he despised it so much?

"Of course he's ready", Fred cut in. "We're all ready, Wood!"

"Exactly", George confirmed. "Percy's just bet ten Galleons on our victory..."

"...and we wouldn't let _him_ down!" said Fred.

The twins laughed as Percy glared at them, and John's smile became a little more natural.

Who cared about desires (especially when only shown by a magical mirror)? He simply wouldn't kill Harry because he didn't want to.

John was already on his way to the pitch when an absent-minded looking blond Ravenclaw girl asked him where his broom was. He felt his cheeks grow red and he turned around on his heels. He ran all the way up to Gryffindor Tower.

"Fortuna Mayor", he panted, not waiting for the Fat Lady to swig out of way herself, but pulling at her frame to make her open the Portrait Hole.

"Didn't the game already start?" the Fat Lady called after him, when he stormed out again with the Nimbus. He ignored her, sprinting down the stairs and corridors.

The castle was empty; most people were already down at the pitch. The sound of enormous raindrops hitting the castle's windows echoed in the empty corridors.

The path to the stadium was all muddy. John slipped at least twice in his hurry to get there on time, getting his robes covered with mud as well. He was just asking himself if he wouldn't be faster flying, when he bumped into someone who was also hurrying to the stadium.

"Sorry", he mumbled, looking up to see it was Professor Lupin whom he'd run into. He grimaced.

"You're late", the teacher said, and John couldn't help to think his voice sounded concerned in a 'what-have-you-been-up-to?' kind of way.

John bit away a 'So are you', and a 'How many points are you going to take from me this time?' but simply gave a polite nod, before continuing his way to the changing rooms.

"Where the hell have you been?" Wood snapped when John entered the locker room.

"Taking some laps for warm up", John panted. Wood looked as though John had lost his marbles, but as it still sounded better than the truth, John didn't add anything.

He changed into his red robes quickly, relieved to get out of his wet robes though he knew he wouldn't stay dry for more than some seconds.. When he was dressed, it was already time to go out.

A cold wind had picked up over the grounds. Even though it was barely noon, the dark clouds covering the sky blocked most of the sunlight so that they got the feeling it had to be late afternoon already.

"Awful weather to play in", Angelina muttered. John couldn't help but agree with her. He hoped the weather wasn't going to grow into a thunderstorm.

As though someone had listened to his thoughts, there appeared a flash of lightning. John scowled, then sighed. At least he might be able to spot the snitch more easily with the additional light.

"Get on your brooms!" Madame Hooch said, yelling to make herself heard over the rain. "On my command! Three...two...one!" The teacher whistled and fourteen players scuffed into the dark, clouded sky.

For John it was strange at first to have to dodge other players and Bludgers, but he got used to it quickly. What was troubling him more was the wind, which made the Nimbus almost as lazy as the school brooms.

As with the trails, he decided to do laps, scanning the stadium in the hope of finding the Snitch. The rain had gotten heavier, but he was still able to see most of the stadium.

Some yards beneath him Alicia had just caught the Quaffel and their teammates raced for the goal post, bailed forward by the commentator.

Then, John spotted the Snitch. He knew it was quite early, but he had almost gotten used to finding it within the first few minutes of flying. It was hard to believe some Quidditch Games went on for days. He glanced around. Malfoy was further away from the snitch than he was. He smiled and pushed the Nimbus through the storm.

He hardly noticed the sky suddenly becoming even darker, didn't notice as the crowd on the bleachers fell silent. He was too focused on the Snitch. The little ball tried to escape to the right, but he was already reaching for it.

Moments later, his fingers closed around the little ball. In triumph, he held up his hand... But no one cheered. Everything was silent.

When turned the Nimbus around and looked at the pitch beneath him, he saw them: Dementors. Hundreds of them. And then he heard the woman's voice again. "Not Harry! Not Harry! No...!"

It wasn't his mother's voice. He was certain about this now. Suddenly, a gust of wind struck him. He fell forward on his broom, but he couldn't get a good hold with one hand still holding the Snitch. He was cast off some yards and suddenly his head hit something hard.

* * *

Sherlock had never been this cold before. It felt as though his insides were filled with ice. He shivered. Why had they done this? Lured hundreds of Dementors to the field... It had been a stupid plan!

He shook his head, shoving away the thought. The Dementors were messing with his mind. He drew a deep breath and closed his eyes, recalling John and their first chase, when they were chasing after the cab driver. He thought of how they'd leaned against the wall afterwards, panting heavy. He recalled the sound of John's laugh, the light feeling which had risen in his chest.

"Expecto Patronum!" A silver owl glided out of his wand, circling him once before it settled on his shoulder. The cold went away instantly and he felt his breaths calming. With a determined look he focused back on his task; despite being said to be of brave hearts, all of the Gryffindors looked frightened. Many of them were clutching their neighbours' hands, and a first year girl was crying quietly.

Sherlock went farther up the bleachers. He was just passing the Trio when Harry Potter sank to the ground. Apparently the rumours about him passing out at the train had been true, then. Sherlock simply elbowed past them, continuing his way to the top of stands, even though he had little hope of finding any other persons resistant to Dementors.

Sherlock had just reached the last row when the students woke from their terrified stupor. A gleaming white figure had appeared on the pitch and the Dementors were slowly backing away. Sherlock gave a small sigh. This meant his work was done. And it meant they were none the wiser as long as Artemis hadn't found someone in the other blocks.

He turned around and went back down to the pitch, scanning it for John. Had the mass of Dementors still not affected him? Remembering the cold still all too clearly, Sherlock couldn't help but think of what he would have given to show the same resistance.

The Gryffindor team had landed and gathered together, but there was no John. Sherlock frowned, concern rising in his chest. He quickened his steps, hurrying down to the pitch. Other students were floating onto the field as well, but it still should have been easy to spot John in his red robes. Finally, he saw the unmistakeable sandy hair.

"John!" he called, barely able to conceal his relief. "Where have you been? I..." His voice trailed off, as he noticed the clothes. "Oh, of course... Artemis."

"Exactly." Said the boy, who could have been John's twin brother. Or rather John himself. "What about John?"

"It's just I haven't spotted him yet... But I suppose there is no need to worry. What about you? Did you find someone?"

"No, all scared, nothing out of the ordinary." He glanced at his watch. "I have to go now... Don't want to be spotted when changing back."

Sherlock nodded absent-mindedly. There the hell could John be?

He knew it was hard to spot someone in a crowed of hundreds of students, but the longer he didn't find John the more uncomfortable he got.

"Still no trace of John?" Artemis, who was back in his own body, stepped up beside him. Sherlock shook his head.

"The trio didn't see him either. I met them when they were on their way up to the hospital wing" said Artemis.

"Hospital wing?"

"Harry passed out. I'm sure you noticed."

"Oh, of course, yes", Sherlock said quickly. Mycroft was right: caring was not an advantage; it slowed the mind.

By now, the students had started to leave. The pitch emptied slowly as the students went back to the castle, abnormally quiet.

"Common room?" he suggested.

Artemis shrugged; he didn't think that John would be there, but he wasn't going to argue with Sherlock. Maybe the Consulting Detective had some solid reason as to why John would be there.


	11. After the match

When John regained consciousness he was aching all over: His head was throbbing and the rest of his body felt as though he had been run over by a herd of Hippogriffs.

He was lying in the mud, feeling the steady patter of cold raindrops on his back.

Where was he? And, how did he get here?

Some flashing images managed their way into his dizzy mind as he tried to recall what had happened: He'd been at the Quidditch game, fighting the storm, which was still howling above him.

He remembered spotting the Snitch, closing his hand around the small golden ball... Something weird had happened then... There had been no cheering, just all-consuming silence...

He shuddered as he remembered the Dementors and being slammed against a goal post or maybe being hit by a Bludger.

He must have lost consciousness then.

Carefully, John tried to move but a sudden pain exploding in his leg stopped him. It felt as though the limb was torn into pieces but the scream coming from his lips faded unheard in the storm.

John drew some deep breaths before he tried to get up again, but the pain was so strong it made tears shoot into his eyes. Exhausted, he sank back to the muddy ground.

The wind still howled over him, taking away all warmth he had left.

John was too tired to move, too hurt, but he knew that he _had_ to get out of the cold.

Again he felt tears rising in his eyes but they weren't for the pain this time: He could die out here.

"Sherlock!" He didn't know why he decided to call for the Consulting Detective instead of simply yelling for help. It was no actual yell that came from his lips though, is was much more like a whisper.

"Sherlock...help...please" But there was no other answer than the storm howling in the trees of the Forbidden Forest.

John's head sank back on the mud and his breathing slowed.

_Don't fall asleep,_ he urged himself. _Don't fall asleep!_

But it got harder with every minute passing. When his eyes fell shut for the third time John suddenly heard something that was neither the storm nor the thunder. It was footsteps-

_Please, let it be Sherlock. Please, Sherlock, finally._

But it wasn't quite the rhythm of human steps.

John held his breath as the footsteps came closer. He could also hear heavy breathing now, like a dog's pan.

He was desperate to get away, remembering all the tales of beasts lurking in the dark trees of the Forbidden Forest. Buthe couldn't move, couldn't run, not with his leg.

The creature crept closer; he could hear its pan right next to his ear, felt the warm, wet breath on his cheek. His muscles tensed awaiting a bite that would rip open his throat.

But it never came. Instead the creature lay down next to him. The animal's fur was wet and thigh but John could still feel the warmth of the beast's body beneath it.

He snuggled against the animal's side.

* * *

"Sherlock, I don't think he's in the castle," Artemis finally pointed out. They had searched the Gryffindor Common Room, the dormitories and every corridor between entry hall and Gryffindor Tower. They had asked everyone they'd come across but no ghost, student or teacher had seen John.

The storm was still bailing enormous raindrops against the castle's windows and every now and then, there was the roar of thunder.

"We looked for him everywhere... He's still out there, Sherlock."

Sherlock's mind knew that Artemis was probably right, but he just didn't _want _it to be true.

"Sherlock?"

The detective ran a hand through his hair, urging his brilliant mind to come up with any possible explanation that could do without John being severely injured or even... dead.

"All right," Sherlock said finally just as another thunder echoed through the corridors. "Let's search the grounds for him."

They were just about to sneak back outside in the storm when they heard fast footsteps approaching.

"Artemis? Sherlock? It is almost curfew. What do you want out there in this weather?"

They didn't have to turn to know who had been speaking. Lupin was the only teacher addressing them by their first names.

"We are looking for John Watson." Artemis didn't bother to come up with any kind of excuse. He could have easily of course.

"And why are you going outside then?"

"Because no one saw him after the Quidditch match!" Sherlock's voice was anxious and for once he was not making it sound this way on purpose. He was not playacting; he was truly concerned for John. "He is still outside. He could be hurt, severely injured."

"You should have notified a teacher. Going out there on your own could be dangerous..." Lupin hesitated. "I will grab a cloak and then we can search him together."

Sherlock shrugged and as soon as Lupin was out of sight he reached for the door handle.  
Artemis couldn't help a little smile; despite his genius, Sherlock was quite predictable sometimes.

The storm had grown even heavier by now. They had to push against the door with combined strength and as soon as they had slipped out, it slammed shut behind them.

Artemis scowled as the rain bailed right into his face but Sherlock was already hurrying off to the Quidditch pitch.

Their robes were soaked before they were past the green houses and the sky was so dark they barely saw where they were going.

Artemis cursed silently as he stepped right into a puddle ruining one of his handcrafted leather shoes but Sherlock wouldn't slow down until they had reached the Quidditch pitch. There, the Consulting Detective stopped, leaning against the wind.

"If he was carried away by the wind he'd be there." Sherlock pointed in the direction of the storm-ridden lake.

"No, at the end of the game, the wind was blowing there!" Artemis gestured to the Forbidden Forest.  
Sherlock's eyes widened and without hesitation he turned to the dark wall of trees, being blown to the right by the fierce wind as he hurried to the dark wood with long strides.

Artemis sighed. "Lumos."

The tip of his wand lit up like a torch and they were now actually able to spot the path. Artemis' hopes to save his expensive shoes from the mud were shattered instantly.

"Lupin will see that," Sherlock complained.

"I know. But he will know anyway that we went out without waiting for him and I think this will make it much easier to find John. Or are you hoping to literally stumble across him?"

Sherlock bit his lips and then did the Lumos spell himself.

They walked silently, some yards apart from each other.

At Hagrid's hut, Lupin joined them. The professor had picked up one of his old robes but it was so full of holes it could hardly offer any protecting from the rain.

"I told you not to go without me." His tone, however, was more concerned than angry.

They continued their way to the forest, the lights of their wands flickering over broken branches.

"Look." Artemis' wand illuminated a piece of wood, which was utterly straight.

"It's been part of a broom," Sherlock muttered, his voice hoarse. Carefully, he picked the piece up, studying it closely.

"Of the one John has flown, to be precise," he added gravely, as he recognized part of the engraftment.

"We're close to the Whomping Willow, it might have crashed against it", Lupin yelled over the storm and rain.

They found another part of the broom somewhat later, the two pieces several yards apart.

"He can't be very far", Artemis said. "The wind might be strong but it's not strong enough to carry a fourteen year old boy for more than some yards and if John had fallen off way before the Willow the wind would've carried the broom too high to be hit by the tree..."

They continued to search, stumbling over big branches that had been torn off by the storm, struggling not to be blown off themselves.

Their cloaks were soaked, the wet clothes pressing cold against their limbs. If John had been out there since the end of the game he was probably frozen to the morrow by now.

If they didn't find him soon he could easy freeze to death.

"Over there!" Sherlock head jerked around. Artemis was directing his wand to a spot at the edge of the forest to a small figure in a red cloak.

"John!" Sherlock yelled, starting to run towards the boy, almost slipping on the muddy ground. "Don't let him but dead", he prayed, not even knowing whom he was praying to. Whatever god or power it was, he didn't believe in it for sure.

Suddenly, a massive dark figure raised behind John.

It was a four-legged creature with thigh, black fur. Or maybe the fur just appeared black for it wetness. Sherlock directed his lit wand at the figure, hoping to find out what creature it was but the beast leaped away, becoming one with the forest within seconds.

Sherlock thought to hear the sound of big paws on the muddy ground of the forest, the sound of branches breaking under the creature's weight but with the howling storm he could just as well be imagining it.

"John?" Sherlock had reached his friend now and bent down to feel for the boy's pulse. The strange creature he had forgotten about already.

John's skin was wet and cold but there was a steady pulse.

"Sher...lock?" John's voice was weak, hard to understand with the storm still roaring.

"Yes, it's me.  
Sh, Don't try to get up", Sherlock added as he saw John attempted to. John's eyes were still unfocused; Sherlock supposed he suffered a serious concussion.

"I... need... t-to ... get o-out ...of the... c-cold," John stuttered, struggling for every word.

"May I have a look?" Artemis' voice came from behind. "I have a medical degree."

Sherlock backed away slowly, letting Artemis lean down over John.

"Don't move," Artemis told John, as he started to check him for injuries and dried his cloths with a quick wave of his wand.

"How bad is it?" Sherlock asked impatiently, stretching to see what Artemis was doing.

"Hypothermia, a sever concussion and a dislocated fracture of the fibula, probably a shattered tibia..." Artemis sighed. "Nothing that couldn't be fixed with some spells. Do you want to do it, or shall I?"

"Go ahead... If it's okay with you, John?"

John nodded weakly. He just wanted the pain to stop, wanted to feel warm again.

But: "Don't!" Lupin said firmly when Artemis directed his wand to John's ankle and lay a hand on the boy's shoulder.

"It's easy to mess up with such kind of magic. I think we should just take him to the hospital wing so Mrs. Pomfrey can fix him. Can you walk, John?"

John hesitated, his eyes fixed on Lupin. Did the teacher want to make him suffer? Or did he really think Artemis could do serious damage?

"I c-can try w-with support", John finally muttered. His head was throbbing and he had some trouble to focus.

Carefully, Sherlock bend down, allowing John to sling an arm around him, before they got up slowly. John hissed as a burst of pain shot up his leg and the edges of his already blurred vision started to fade. If Sherlock hadn't held him tightly around the waist he would've just collapsed back to the ground.

"You all right?" Sherlock whispered.

John drew some deep breaths before nodding slowly. Of course he wasn't all right, though: the world was spinning, he felt nauseous and both his ankle and head were throbbing with every heartbeat. The cloths Artemis had just dried were soacked again already.

Slowly, they made their way up to the castle. John had to concentrate hard to stay conscious, struggled to keep his head up. Sherlock was practically dragging him along.

Finally, the rain stopped and when John forced his eyes to open he realized they were in the entrance hall already. He couldn't help a relieved sigh.

"We're almost there. Don't worry."

John nodded, concentrating on the marble staircase ahead of them. Which floor was the hospital wing?  
He heard Artemis muttering something from behind and suddenly he felt better.

"Won't last for long ", Artemis added under his breath but John still offered him a thankful smile. He wasn't feeling exactly well now but at least not close to passing out anymore.

They had just reached the stairs when a yell suddenly echoed through the Entrance Hall:

"I saw him! This is the boy I saw!"

They twitched and as John turned around he found Filch's finger accusingly pointing at him. "He has lured the Dementors to the school!"

"What?" John stammered. His stomach clenched and he could feel Lupin's piercing eyes resting on him. "I... I ... Why would I do that?"

"I saw him!" Filch repeated, his voice almost hysterical. "It was him, Professor, I saw him at the gates!"


End file.
